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Geralt had obviously had a very rough day. Your traveling companion and occasional lover was covered in bruises and scratches, his shirt hanging off of him in tatters as he stumbled into your room. He shouldered off his swords with a soft wince and folded into a chair. A curtain of long white hair covered Geralt’s face as he leaned forward and attempted to strip off his boots. You watched this all happen from your perch on the bed. He had yet to speak to you, but Geralt was like that.
“You look terrible,” you offered, standing. You went over to him. The curtain of hair parted, revealing his startlingly yellow eyes that looked at you wearily.
Geralt merely grunted and went back to his task.
“Here. Let me do it.” You kneeled between his legs and had his boots off in two quick tugs, much more efficient than whatever he was doing. Geralt hummed a thank you, leaning back in the chair. His head tilted back, revealing the pale, untouched column of his throat. You stifled a sigh. He was beautiful, your witcher. You shuffled forward on your knees. Your head rested against his thigh. “Tired, Geralt?” you asked.
Geralt hummed in agreement.
You began to slowly rub the inside of the thigh your head was against. His head lifted just enough for him to peek at you, a single golden eye training on you. “Don’t mind me,” you said. “I’m just trying to help.”
Geralt’s next ‘hmm’ let you know he didn’t believe you for a second, but he put his head back again, the shift causing his legs to spread even further.
The hand you placed on his thigh slid until you were nearly at the juncture of his hip. You rubbed in soft circles, staring up at him with quiet awe. No matter how often you were with him, being with Geralt was still like a dream. Every rise and fall of his chest, every tendril of white hair that stuck to his chiseled cheek, every— Well. You could go on and on about Geralt. It was no surprise to you that Jaskier had written so many songs about him. You understood completely, much to Geralt’s chagrin.
Geralt’s voice rumbled into your core. “You’re staring again,” he rasped, raising his head to look at you.
“I’m always staring,” you quipped. “That’s why they call me a seer.”
Your joke made him crack a soft smile, and your heart sped up. “Is that why?” he mused. Geralt’s large, rough hand carded through your hair. “Your heart is racing.”
“Of course it is,” you scoffed. “I’m looking at the most beautiful man on the Continent.” Geralt grunted at your remark and made to pull you up. You rose just long enough to briefly kiss him, then returned to kneeling between his magnificent thighs. “I’d like to stay down here for a while, if it’s all the same to you.”
Geralt hummed his assent, his hand moving to cup your face. His thumb stroked your cheek. “Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled.
You blinked. “Like what?”
“You know.” He pulled his hand away, his eyes averting. “Adoringly,” mumbled Geralt.
“I can’t help it, Geralt,” you said with a pout. You scooted closer, your hand now hovering over his crotch. “I do adore you.” You looked up to see him staring very intently at you. You flashed him a smile.
Geralt grunted and resettled in the chair. He didn’t look away from you once, and he could stare much harder than you could. He hardly needed to blink.
“Now who’s staring?”
He smiled at the challenge in your voice. “Apologies, my lady,” said Geralt with obvious amusement in his voice.
You huffed. “I’m not a lady,” you scolded. “I’m hardly anything at all, let alone aristocracy.”
Geralt hummed questioningly.
“Oh yes,” you said. “And I’ll prove it.”
“Oh—?” Geralt’s question was cut off by a slight catch in his breath as you began to rub him through his pants. You rested your head against his thigh once more, eyes fixed on his handsome face. His eyes slid shut, his lips parting ever so slightly. Again, you had to suppress a sigh. He was too lovely for his own good.
“Maybe,” you piped up, “you should take off your shirt.” As an afterthought you added, “Since it’s completely shredded.”
Geralt grunted his agreement and sat up, wincing as he attempted to pull it off.
“Wait! I’ll do it.” You hopped up, carefully untucking the shirt from the waist of his pants. The shirt was so ruined, it left very little to the imagination. You fought to keep from salivating as you decided the best course of action would be to simply tear the thing so Geralt wouldn’t have to raise his arms. “I’m going to rip it.” After Geralt gave you a nod of approval, you took hold of his collar and pulled, the fabric ripping in two. You slid your hands lightly over Geralt’s chest, pushing the remains of his shirt off his shoulders. His muscles involuntarily flexed under your touch.
You couldn’t help yourself. You found an unmarked patch of skin and pressed a kiss to it, Geralt’s sharp inhale music to your ears.
With the shirt gone, you could see the damage wasn’t quite as bad as you thought. On the front, anyway. His back was covered in a dark purple bruise that spread from his shoulders to the small of his back. “Had a run in with a tree, have you Geralt?” you asked as you stared at the bruise with a mixture of amazement and sorrow.
He grunted his assent. “Fucking thing tossed me near 30 feet,” grumbled Geralt.
“Oh my dear witcher,” you sighed. Since you were standing, you took the opportunity to run your hands through Geralt’s mane, curling the snow white strands of hair around your fingers. “You’re lucky you’re so hard to kill.” His hands set on your waist and you tilted his chin up, rubbing the stubble on his cheeks. “Or maybe I should say I’m lucky you’re so hard to kill.”
Your words earned a soft smile from him. Every time he smiled it lit up his whole face and softened his eyes. You couldn’t resist making a comment. “You’re so beautiful,” you cooed, gripping his cheeks with your hand.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” Geralt said, his voice rumbling through you once again. “So quick. Like a little rabbit.” He clutched your waist and tugged you closer. One of his hands drifted from your waist and cupped your ass through your skirt. “Will you run from me, little rabbit?”
Your mouth went dry, while another place got very, very wet. “N-Never, Geralt,” you managed, for once having to look away as your cheeks stained red with blush. He released you with a pleased grunt and settled back. You sunk to your knees again and sighed, placing your burning cheek on his lap. Idly, you began to rub him through his pants again, pleased to find you had a similar effect in him. “The White Wolf and the Rabbit,” you mumbled. “Poetic.”
Geralt made a sound that could’ve been laughter. You glanced up to see him smiling down at you. His hand stroked your hair. He remained quiet after that.
His erection was straining against his pants now, the bulge in the leather pushing against your hand. Geralt’s chest rumbled as you squeezed the outline of his cock. “Want me to suck it?” you offered, unable to take your eyes off his bulge. You blushed brightly as his hand turned your face to look at him. “N-Normally I wouldn’t offer, but you’ve had such a hard day and—“
“You want my cock in your mouth,” Geralt mused.
You nodded. “So badly,” you whispered.
You startled as he stood. He shucked off his pants and sat again. His cock bobbed to attention, and this time you did start salivating, because naked Geralt was truly a sight. You crawled closer, hands creeping up his thighs, and marveled at his size. You wrapped your hand around his shaft, giving him a few test strokes. Of course, you’d seen him naked before, but this. This was something else.
You took the tip of his cock into your mouth. You glanced up to see Geralt staring at you with half lidded eyes, his mouth open ever so slightly. A thrill went through you. You took more of him into your mouth, minding your teeth, and pressed your tongue against his shaft. A pleased rumble left him, so you continued.
There was no way to fit him entirely, but you managed the best you could. You began to bob slowly, gripping the portion you couldn’t fit with your hand to keep him steady. Your knees ached, but you soldiered on. You hollowed your cheeks and pulled off with a loud ‘pop’. Geralt let out a shaky sort of sigh. Dragging your tongue up the side of his cock, you stole another glance up at him. Geralt had leaned back, his hair falling against his shoulders. As if he knew you were looking, his eyes opened and met yours. He closed his mouth and swallowed hard.
“Is it good, Geralt?” you cooed. Your hand made a slick noise as it stroked him. “Do you like the way my mouth feels?”
Geralt growled and threaded his hand in your hair, pushing you (gently) back towards his cock. You took that as a yes.
You pressed a line of kisses up the side of his shaft before wrapping your lips around the head. You swallowed as much of him as you could, gagging on his cock. The noise earned a soft groan from Geralt, whose hand tightened in your hair. You placed your hands on his thighs and squeezed. Your nails dug into his skin, but he didn’t seem to care. You gagged again and had to pull off, panting harshly. The hand in your hair tightened and relaxed, releasing after a moment. Then, you felt yourself being tugged up by the collar of your shirt. “Wha—“ you squeaked.
“Come here, rabbit,” Geralt said, his voice deliciously rough. Geralt kissed you roughly, bunching up your skirts with one hand and slipping the other between your legs. The rough pads of his fingers slipped between your folds. Geralt let out a pleased hum. “You’re so wet.”
“All for you,” you gasped. Your hands went to his shoulders, but he stopped you.
“Turn around,” he ordered. You did as he said, and Geralt tugged your skirt down. You kicked it away, reached for the bottom of your shirt, and looked back at him for approval. At his nod, you pulled your shirt over your head. Geralt dragged you into his lap. You braced yourself on his thighs, looking over your shoulder. “Good rabbit,” praised Geralt. He ran a hand down your spine. “Tell me.”
Having played this game before, you knew what he wanted. You sat up so your back was flush against his chest. You turned your head, your breath flitting over his ear. “Fuck me, Geralt,” you pleaded. “I need your cock inside me.”
His cock twitched against your backside. His arms wrapped around you, one hand going to your breast, the other slipping again between your legs. “Here?” he growled. Geralt’s fingertips brushed against your swollen clit, causing you to jolt. He hardly noticed, his hand traveling further until he could slip a finger into you. You whimpered and clenched around the digit. “You’re so tight,” Geralt said hotly against your ear. He pulled his hand away, ignoring your second whimper, and pulled up your thigh so it was close to your chest. “Stay.”
You leaned more heavily against him and held up your leg as requested. The hand on your breast rubbed circles around your nipple, leaving your head staticky.
Geralt returned his hand to your cunt and slipped a finger inside. He began to move his hand, each small thrust making a filthy wet noise. “Did you get this wet just from sucking my cock?” murmured Geralt. You swallowed hard and nodded. “You’re right. You’re not a lady. You’re a slut.”
You mewled and rested your head against his shoulder. Your hips bucked against his hand, so Geralt added another finger, stretching you open.
“You like that?” he asked quietly. “You like when I call you a slut?” You clenched around his fingers at the word.
“N-Not just a slut,” you panted. “I want to be—“ You cried out as he curled his fingers.
“My slut,” he finished gruffly. You nodded quickly, chewing on your bottom lip. “Dirty little rabbit.” Geralt sounded amused. “So be it.” He slid his fingers out of you, brushing them against your clit in a way that made you gasp. You let go of your thigh when he patted your hand. He used both hands to grab your hips and lift.
You grabbed hold of his cock and licked your lips in anticipation, lining him up with your entrance. Geralt tugged your hips and you sunk onto him, crying out. Fingering you had helped, but you were still tight. Geralt’s cock stretched you fantastically.
“Fuck,” growled Geralt. He swatted your ass, pushing you forward slightly. “Incredible.”
You gripped his thighs tightly and started to move, bouncing carefully. Geralt kept his hands tight on your hips, helping you ride him. You cried out as his hips bucked out of the chair, pushing his cock deeper into you. “G-Geralt,” you panted. “Please—“
“Go on, rabbit. Show me what my slut can do.”
With just a few words you felt utterly wrecked. You clutched his thighs as you bounced on his cock, choked moans leaving your throat each time he hit your cervix. A wave of heat rolled through your body, making you see stars. You swallowed another moan, shut your eyes, and gripped his thighs so hard Geralt let out a soft hiss.
Geralt tugged you back and wrapped his hand loosely around your throat to keep you tight against him. He thrust his hips up steadily to compensate for your now limited movement, though you did your damndest to keep up. His feet braced on the floor, he thrust into you particularly hard, causing you to cry out his name. “You’re close, aren’t you?” His voice rumbled through your body right down to your core. Another wave of blissful heat rolled through you, frying your already fried nerves.
You nodded, your head bobbing against his shoulder.
“Touch yourself,” Geralt mumbled in your ear.
You let out a half-pant half-laugh of disbelief. You turned your head to find your very horny, very serious witcher looking back at you with a look usually reserved for when he was about to kick ass. You swallowed hard, his hand flexing against your neck. With a shaking hand, you reached down and rubbed small circles on your clit. The stimulation was overwhelming. “Geralt, I—” You licked your dry lips.
He pulled you into a bruising kiss. With the hand that wasn’t touching yourself, you gripped him by the hair, meeting the kiss with equal intensity. Geralt released your neck, put both hands on your hips, and pulled you into each thrust of his hips. Groans spilled from his lips, muffled by your own higher moans.
You grew closer and closer to the edge. Geralt sensed it and slowed down, thrusting up into you leisurely. “Geralt,” you whined. “I’m so close.”
“Work for it, rabbit,” he grunted.
You were near tears. Your walls fluttered around his cock and you rolled your hips, your fingers working your clit with more fervor. You clutched his hair tightly, but he hardly flinched, still sliding steadily in and out of you. You rolled your hips just right and—
“Oh,” you cried out, your head falling against Geralt’s shoulder as your body tensed and went limp. Your walls spasmed around his cock, and he sped up his thrusts. His grip on your hips was harsh, making indentions in the soft skin as he fucked you. Geralt yanked you up and off of him, just in time for his cum to splatter onto your stomach and thighs.
You lolled your head to the side, feeling his chest heave behind you, You supposed even witchers got winded at times. “I think I’m in love with you,” you murmured sleepily, the dregs of your orgasm still flowing through you.
Geralt let out a breath of a laugh and kissed your neck affectionately. “I suppose I ought to get you cleaned up, rabbit. Maybe put you to bed.”
“Maybe,” you said with a laugh. “A little dinner wouldn’t hurt either.”
He grunted and scooped you up into his arms, standing. You wavered slightly and clasped your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Geralt set you on the bed and moved to pull away, but you kept a firm grip on him. “Don’t go yet.”
Geralt’s eyebrow raised and he gave you an affectionate smile. “I need to clean you up,” he mused. “You’ll get sticky.”
You recoiled at the thought and released him. “I hate being sticky,” you mumbled. You sprawled out on the bed to wait. Geralt returned quick enough, wiping you down with the remains of his ruined shirt. He was gentle with you, a much appreciated factor after the rather strenuous sex. Once you were sufficiently clean, he slipped into bed beside you. You curled up against him immediately, placing your hands against his injured chest. “I should have cleaned these first,” you sighed, running your fingertips lightly next to one of the open scratches. “I’m a bad companion.”
Geralt chuckled. “Not at all. I much preferred your method of healing.” He pushed your hair back from your face, tracing your jawline.
“What if you get an infection?” you asked in alarm.
“I’ll be fine,” he assured you. “I always am.”
You let out a huff of frustration. “Always stupid, maybe,” you grumbled. You pressed on a bruise beneath his pectoral just to watch him wince.
“Hey.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand away from his body, bringing it to his mouth so he could press a kiss to your knuckles. “Relax, rabbit.”
“Is that my new nickname, Witcher?” You snuggled closer and slung your leg over his hip. Geralt tugged you closer and kissed you, his cock starting to harden again. You gasped against his lips, sure you were blushing all the way to your toes.
“There goes your heart again.” Geralt dragged his pointer finger down your chest, over your heart to between your breasts.
“Give me a break, Geralt,” you gasped. “I don’t have your superhuman stamina.”
He kissed you again. “Shame,” he murmured. “Maybe later then.”
You playfully swatted his bicep and turned in his arms so your back was pressed against his chest. He spooned you benevolently, hands draped around your waist. “Get some rest, rabbit,” he whispered in your ear.
“You first,” you grumbled back, mad you were actually really tired. You let your eyes fall shut and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms tighter around you. Feeling secure, sexed out, and blissfully in love, you fell asleep with your witcher at your back.