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Sleeping Beauty Reloaded	By : dschinny Category: +S through Z > Witcher 2, The: Assassins of Kings Views: 1939 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Witcher, this is purely for fun, and not profit

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Chapter 13 - Everytime you leave
Velita had cleaned and stuffed out the witcher’s muddy boots and crossed the room to hang washed clothing items over the hearth. When she staked armor to dry, Gernot understood it was high time to say good bye and leave them alone. It was probably the last night they had together. He stood and Geralt followed, catching Velita at the door in his long arm’s reach. “Your mantle,” he advised. “We’ll walk you over Gernot, Velita has to warm up as well.”
“Me?” Velita was first surprised then unsure what was in store for her at the chevalier’s house. Especially not since Geralt had discussed selling her to another guy. New customers were… she shivered briefly, but this was Gernot and he was a decent man and she heard him say, “Sure, you must be freezing, the water’s been cold.” The witcher reached up and picked a lantern off the ceiling, sealed off the chamber and they went over the dark court. Gernot parted at the stairs and went to his room on the first floor while Geralt accompanied Velita to the guard’s washroom.
Silence was on the house and Geralt passed Velita the lantern, “You can undress, I’ll get us fresh stones.” – “I’ll… thanks.” she added. She was threadbare and washed when he returned, shivering with the cold water that ran down her trim body in rivulets. He shed his shirt and knickers as well, picked her mantle from the peg and entered the steam bath with her. “What’s your plan?” she asked. In a better world, he would have her sit on the edge right between his thighs to fondle her intimately while she warmed up. But this was enemy territory so he stayed aware of doors and sounds and let her find a seat to his left. Loose wisps had fallen from the knot of her hair around her face and made her even lovelier. He poured water on the stones with a ladle and used the mantle to fan it around once the scorching steam had purged the offensive guard’s mating scent.
“We‘ve got a joke at home: all women are beautiful, but the most beautiful is the one that comes right out of the sauna.” It wasn’t quite a smile on his lips, and had a rueful side. She did not know what to make of it and asked “How many women do you have there?” – “None of course. It’s a cold, remote, mostly ruined fortress high up in the north of the Blue Mountains. Its best defense is the fact that nobody else wants it. No woman in her right mind would want to stay there.” – “A housing to match the saying, ‘No woman would want to keep a witcher around because they get dirty on the job’?” – “Like will to like.” He shrugged, closed his eyes against the steam and hoped she would get the message. That it wasn’t her fault, but his disability.
He felt her elbow knock against his forearm “Hey, don’t be sorry, I didn’t expect you to move in with me, either. You’re much too big to be comfortable in my little box,” she smiled, “But it’s all I’ve got and I am content. I enjoy your visit.” – Geralt was glad to hear that Velita understood his lifestyle on the road did not allow longer entanglements. He skipped explanations and cut to the point, “What about Gernot?” – “He’s a decent man. He will think first and then do the best he can. And that will be enough for me. I don’t want him to get hurt, nor Anne and Fabian. They’ll always come first.”
“Though I usually deny the company of a client’s employee, I actually enjoyed working with Gernot. Without his guidance, I wouldn’t have been successful in such a short time.” Geralt slouched on the lower bench, with his elbows on the edge of the upper tier, sweat and steam beaded on his skin. “Tomorrow we will check another scene for residues and then I’ll be on my way.”
Velita glanced at Geralt’s gloriously broad, deliciously glossy chest, “I have truly enjoyed hosting you, but I’m pleased that you’ve had a successful stay. Can I get you anything else for your journey?”
He let his eyes drift open a little, his gaze run all over her sweat damp and steam glazed thighs, “I would like to be with you again tonight.” – “Oh that… I considered that a given.” – “I won’t. It’s a very special gift to me.” – “As it is to me,” she smiled.
-oOo-
Velita stayed in the steam bath until she could bear the heat no more. She scrambled to her feet scrambled out, giving him a lovely view of her heart shaped bottom in the process. She knelt on the wooden grate to undo her braids and wash hair. It was always a procedure. Geralt helped her rinse the suds off patiently. It was common sense, there was no telling when she would be allowed to safely use this room and be as warm for this season and the next. “Thanks,” while Geralt got dressed, she looted a real towel for her hair and put the mantle on, pulling up the cowl. The fabric was still warm. “Let’s give Sean the creeps again,” Velita snickered and slipped into her clogs, her wrapped up clothing under the arm.
The guard was monitoring the outer perimeter as Velita put on fresh logs and then they slipped back into the stable. Velita wasted no time to get a rid of the mantle; she lit the second lantern and hung them both to the ceiling before she slid between the sheets. Geralt washed his bare feet before he stepped on the wooden platform, losing his shirt and knickers on the way. He flung the blanket aside deftly. He had been patient, now he wanted to see and memorize every detail before he settled above her, supporting his larger frame on his elbows.
He breathed the warmth and moisture that still steamed off her flushed skin. The rosy hue was highlighted by dark hair. He omitted the bruises on her hip bones, but nipped her belly button above and teased her nipple. He felt her hands slide up his arms and shoulders, the inside of her knee brushed against his thigh as she urged him on. “I’ll keep you warm,” he promised, sliding over her as if he had no weight, his palms ran over the inside of her arms, taking her elbows up beside her face as he kissed her deeply.
She sighed; her soft breasts rose against his chest and her nipples stiffened as he held her down. His white hair fell around their faces, almost dried and somewhat tousled. Looking into his amber eyes she felt like the world outside had ceased to exist and she stopped straining against him. There was no rush, they had all night and he would have it his way, fulfilling his curiosity like she had yesterday.
So far, Geralt had taken in her generally pleasing shape, ignored the imperfections and concentrated on her insides. Today had turned up how little he actually knew about her. Sorceresses purged their bodies of all imperfections they could find and hid behind an illusion while their ugly memories remained. So much they made it a pleasurable challenge to find a single residue freckle. The downside was; they despised what they had been, had overcome and they would not accept anything less than perfect as they went on. So much that it gave him the creeps.
He guessed that Velita had been well proportioned from the beginning, a turn-head in her twenties. Now she was wearing rags, but back then she had probably been a townswoman with unblemished skin, pert nose, lush breasts and wavy chestnut hair. The lines her face had attracted in the meantime told of many smiles. She had lost much weight recently, her cheeks had gained edges, and her lips had thinned. He kissed her and felt that the cracks had healed well under the care her herbal knowledge provided.
Her shoulders were round with muscle, her elbows had a fair amount of scratches, many fresh, but there was a deeper, whiter one and a burn mark that was well healed and looked really old. Apparently, she had a life time of experience with animal care and at the hearth. Her skin was tanned now from working outside, with some dark spots and a sheen of dark hair on the outsides of her elbows, so soft and thin it felt like velvet under his stroking fingers. The hair in her armpits proved that her so called owner had been adamant about a slave not having a blade for many weeks. She was probably more concerned about it than him. True to her word, she smelled washed and clean. There was a curious crescent-shaped scar on a rib under her left breast that betrayed neither animal nor blade origin.
The count was mistaken. She was not, or at least had not been barren. He felt for shape of her nipples and a slight loss of padding there. It told the story of one or two children she had nursed, though the stretch marks were so faint, likely more than a decade ago. He extended his hand over the soft mounds, raised and kneaded it gently, suckled the firm nipple of the other, grazed it with his teeth and still he felt her squirm for more. Very few children for a woman in her forties, average would be ten - but then she was a potion maker who would not have a child every year in a marriage.
Should he tell her no such effort was needed while she slept with him? Whenever she knew something about witchers’ mutagens, she had not shown off. But then, she held down a lot more information. ‘Later,’ he decided. Her waist was narrow with firm abs that rippled under his exploration as he dipped his tongue into her belly button. It was a bit more pronounced from pregnancy, his hands-on experience on the back of her hips told that her body was filling out losses most pleasingly.
He omitted the bluish bruises on her hip bones with feather light touch; he knew where they came from. His palms smoothed over the rounding of her thighs and nudged them apart to slide deeper, his thumb brushed over the curly patch of hair. She inhaled and pushed against him, rocking in the rhythm so ancient that animals, humans, even mutants shared it. He already knew the inside of her thighs were a silky and unblemished paradise that had taken on a rosy hue tonight, matching the crimson folds that opened to his gentle touch. Her scent was intoxicating, moisture greeted his thumb. He prodded her ever so gently and she moaned and dug her heels into the hay padding.
His palm smoothed over the sensitive dip where her thigh met her butt and came upon a slight welt further down on the back of her right thigh. He brushed his thumb over it, she did not mind, it was well healed and very old. His other thumb smoothed the moisture further down the perineum; his hand squeezed her butt as he circled her anus with his thumb. She flinched away and tilted her hip. She definitely did not want him to touch her there. She was tight, sensitive and extremely nervous about it and he dropped that exploration immediately, stroked the outside of her thighs soothingly and nibbled up a path to her right knee.
There were many bruises on her legs, old and young from where she had been forced down on her knees or simply knelt on the ground working the garden. White scars, as old as a wild, free childhood on courts of gravel. Thorns had scratched her shins and even now she would probably rather lift her skirts and risk modesty than a tear in the precious fabric. Firm calf muscles played as she curled her toes on his shoulder. She was so delightful flexible and she got a bit frustrated already.
‘So what?’ He chuckled and brushed her right foot off his shoulder, catching her left ankle instead, held it on his shoulder by the ankle. He straightened, stretched her leg easily and nibbled the inside of her heel. As the weeks-old bruising from the slaver’s iron around her ankle was fading and her feet remained clean in socks, an older scar became notable below. And that one had been so wide and deep, a whole section of skin had been gone... long ago. She had a life beforehand and it hadn’t been always a protected one.
“Two decades wasted in a monastery, my ass,” he grumbled and had an unchaste idea how to make up for some. He smoothed his palms down the smooth pillar her leg he had up against his chest, toned from walking and lifting only, not horseback riding. Her right calf prodded his hip and beckoned him closer. Oh yes, he could be as demanding as she was. He rose on his knee, moved his shin over her right thigh and straightened his back holding her supple leg close to his chest. That pulled her open wide and he slid his member inside without ceremony. He picked up that smooth ancient rhythm, exploring her depths from yet another angle. She mewled and squirmed pleasingly to adjust to his grit, her unfulfilled frustration overcome by pleasant surprise.
He smiled down at the ‘oh’ forming on her sweet lips. Certainly, there was no need to tell everything beforehand. Her breasts bounced as he reached depth, her hands fluttered over his knees, looking for hold. He smoothed his left thumb over her clit, stimulating her further with his less calloused hand. She had been dying for him to explore that sweet spot and now he gave it to her, slow and deep until her rose hued body softened into a sweet puddle of contractions, unable to make further demands.
He let her out of his tight hold to kiss her and let her straighten out her slim frame underneath his bulk. He settled by her side, his head rested comfortably on his left elbow as he looked at her. She turned to him and he smoothed his large palm over her shoulder, arm and the small of her waist. His hand settled comfortably on the raise of her hip. She looked at him in wonder. He was not satisfied yet, not by far, still he gave her a break. He never rushed her in fact, even demanded her to pace herself to last longer in their extended play. Her legs were jelly already …and she was just on hiatus.
He reached over for a cup of water, drank and passed it to her as well. “You’ve been good with Roach but since I had a closer look, I wonder if you can ride at all.” – “Oh that… well, with a saddle I manage not to fall down during a trot. I’m glad that horses generally like me,” she smiled ruefully. – “You handle them like you grew up with them.” – “Not at all,” she blushed fiercely, “I just got to know how they feel and I act on that, fulfill their needs so they accept me around them as one of theirs.” – “Good thing,” he approved, “how did you learn that?” – She had grown used to his unusual eye color and intent gaze, but now it felt piercing again. He had been nothing but kind but now he made her feel uncomfortable, “In a monastery, you mean?” she added, and he just nodded and expected her to continue, “I didn’t take a vow, if you worry about that.”
“I’m not concerned about chastity in general, but I don’t know of a nunnery in the Pontar Valley or anywhere else that is renowned for breeding horses.”
“Believe it or not, I had a live beforehand.”
There, he had riled her and did not mind to stoke that boldness he found it so irresistible, especially if it came with the allure of the unseen. But Velita was already taking the step back. Pity.
“I was at the monastery to keep Milady company and to serve her, which included grooming her horses.” – She was being precise, but he knew from her heartbeat that she was also pretending. “…and that came easy with your beforehand experience?” – “Yes,” she knocked his request down and put a smile on her face. It felt so false that it made him wonder whenever to use an axi to get beyond that barrier of half truths and fulfill his curiosity. ‘That is no way to treat a friend,’ he restrained himself, “What did you do?”
“A little bit of everything. I worked in a pharmacy, danced, ran a nobleman’s household and nursed Milady’s newborn… whatever was needed.” – It came across harmless enough; still it was neither the answer nor the reason. The stress pheromones coming from Velita told a wholly different story. The witcher pretended to pick up the bait and see if that would reduce her tension, “I’d like to see you dance.” – “Only with you, Geralt,” she smiled and scratched the crescent scar under her breast before offered him an alternative, “I also play lute decently.”
He noticed the displacement activity at once, slid his palm back up her ribs, and brushed his thumb over the scar. Aside from Beltane celebration, ‘Let’s dance’ was one of the witcher’s favorite taunts when entering a duel. “Dance with blades, you mean?” he rasped. He had other means than his swords to tame a shield maid who challenged him. If she wanted to tussle, he was warmed up and ready. He rolled on top of her - with weight this time.
“I didn’t mean that.” Velita squeaked underneath. He did not hurt her, but the full weight of his torso rested on her hips, and she found herself stuck between his chiseled body and the compressed straw bales underneath. “…honestly...” – “Honestly .what. hurt you there if it wasn’t swords play?” he caught her elbows above her head again and slid down to kiss that scar underneath her breast, nibbled the mound above lightly, working his way up to her nipple. And then just. Stopped. He felt her loins contract under his relaxed abs as he made himself heavy, “A metal bikini,” came the meek response from above. – She dared no challenge but submitted an unexpected turn-on to his imagination. “Hmm,” he suckled the pert nipple as reward. He liked how tonight’s exploration was going.
“It’s not such a fond memory, Geralt and I’m not going to revive that.” – “Hm?” he looked up. - “Just to let you know I still like music and dance, just not dancing alone…” He had already eased his hold and was about to do something against loneliness. But she shoved his muscular shoulders away with her palms and all her might - to no avail of course, “…or being on display,” she geared up. “…or handed around in chains,..” She wanted him off her. At once!
Whohoo, the next thing his sweet, willing viper would extent to him was teeth and claws. Geralt’s neck started itching at the mere thought and he rolled them over so she ended on top of him. To stay safe, he gathered her hands flat upon his chest underneath his palms. “Shhh, I see, you’re alright now.”
Velita stopped shoving and straightened up, shivering with unspent energy. She took a deep breath, “So what?” she challenged him, “Will you stay in my bed for another week so we can drill down to the origin of each and every of your scars and do an in depth analyze of all the mistakes you have probably made - from hindsight? Would that suit you?”
Primo: yes, secundo: no. “Don’t be furious, I was just looking for another way out.” he smiled ruefully, “If you could ride and fight, that would change a lot.”
“Sure, the whole damn continent was made by and for men who can ride and fight …and sorceress who turn things upside down and inside out. But I am neither, I am just who I am and I like it that way!”
That stung. He wasn’t a brute. He used magical means for good reasons. This talk was just the proof. He could have cast an axi to persuade her to spill all the information she carefully guarded, but there he was, just asking questions - respecting her holds. “What would you know of sorceresses?”
“That they change lives as they see fit, by overbearing means. And that it is not the sort of freedom I want…” She looked down at him, his yellow eyes, his white hair and pale skin “Sorry Geralt,” she stopped in her tracks. That came out wrong; she had been so comfortable with him, taken him into her heart like a fellow human, though he was not. He was obviously changed by magic. He could even make light with a finger snip… like a sorcerer. She should really stop trampling around on his person in a general fit of rage.
“You have a point,” Geralt wasn’t prone to sharing his personal experience. “It’s pretty obvious from a look at me, isn’t it?” – “Yes, Geralt… but I don’t mind. You are as you are.” - He ran his palm up her womb. “I still cannot see how your live was changed by magic?”
She definitely wouldn’t entertain him while she sat on him. This was about her life. “Long story,” She stood and got her brush to groom her drying hair, “seriously long,” she shrugged. He did not trust her and that stung after all they had shared. On the other hand, she could not say good-bye like that. She had nothing to lose. Maybe, if he remembered… witchers travelled far. They got around about everywhere and traded in silver. “…and totally unbelievable anyway.”
“Hm. We’ve got time. Believable or not… let me hear first.”
“I don’t require you to believe me, Geralt. It will amuse you at best, like a fairytale.” she relaxed notably, put the brush away to retrieve the rumpled blanket from the side of the bed. She sat cross legged and covered her shoulders. Like a dog trampling a few rounds in the grass before lying down, she then decided it was too much isolation. She slid closer, lay beside him and took him under her blanket again. She rested her head on her elbow, so close she was almost touching him. Still words did not come easy to her. “Can you promise me something?”
“Within reason,” he said evenly, but inwardly, he tensed. So far, she had not requested a thing from him in return, how steep would it get after all? “You know there are things I cannot do,” he added cautiously.
“Promise me, that even if you are appalled of what I am, the details I tell you of my past will stay among the two of us.” – “Alright,” he said. Such things he handled daily. – “And that you won’t change me into something else, at least not without my permission.” – He wrinkled his forehead in surprise and smoothed her hair out of her face, “What do you mean by ‘something else’?” – “I mean that I want to outlive the rest of my days as a human being, please.”
‘Honestly - what?!’ but he remained earnest on the outside, “I can certainly promise you that,” he said, wondering how bad things could have been when the result was such a request?! “I am no sorcerer, you know? I am a witcher, I don’t do creepy stuff like body modifications or portals. You’ve got nothing to fear.”
Velita stared at him blankly. The witcher killed monsters… and humans, too, at times. Geralt did a lot of downplaying, but he was no liar. All he could do and certainly would do was to leave her alone. Until then, she wanted him to trust her tonight, so she could just tell him and get it over with. The witcher was probably the only person on the continent she could confess to and it would not matter.
It was a blessing.
“My family ran a pharmacy in Etolia. A noble man was unhappy with an unsuccessful treatment, my husband fled, the fine bankrupted the business. I left the kids with his grandparents and entered an indentured servitude to pay that dept. I thought I’d work it off in my profession but they told me that there was a quicker way to get back to my kids. They destroyed my pendant, said I had screwed up the work contract and then made me dance in a brothel. When that business went bankrupt as well, my service contract had vanished and I was sold to a slaver with the other whores. The slaver handed me over to the very man who had ruined my family. He thought of it as a bribe, but I was returned in such a bad state that I couldn’t be auctioned off and was ferried northwards up the Velda into Ebbing.
I was bought by another lord - out of pity maybe, or because he did not want to be seen at an auction. Milord already had a harem of girls, he was looking for a cook and a handmaid. He took me in, allowed me to heal and saw what I could do. With time I secretly reacquired my spouses’ pendant, reconnected with the divine. Milord was a free thinking man who married one of his slaves and made her his lady. That didn’t sit too well with other ranking members of society. He was not afraid to kill in duel, but he was generous and hospitable as well. He could afford it, running a silver mining business in Cir Cochair.
I was not free, but I was safe and cared for… to the day a crone passed through. First I mistook her for a beggar and gave her food in the kitchen, but then she told me that she came looking for me. She found that my present state of slavery was a dishonor to the healer’s guild and decided to free me. I should have yelled for the guards, but I was so stupid she lured me into the stable and there she turned me into a black mare. Afterwards, she told me to break free or be ridden. She tied my healer’s pendant into my mane, and then she just chased me out of the court that had become my home. I went gate crashing since the balance for the crone’s magical deal was a stallion-turned-human. He felt as horrible as I. While I was still sorting out my hooves, he trashed the stable until he was bleeding.
I fled. I was finally free, I ate grass and ran with the wild horses of the Korath Desert, simply because I was a horse myself. Once milord became wind of the affair, he sent his guard’s captain and his Skelligan girl to find me. This first squad was ambushed by a gang of bandits led by my outlawed spouse. Milord himself came to secure the road to his mine in full-fledged warfare and took an arrow to his elbow. When I found him, I trampled down several attackers and pulled him out of the skirmish, carried him home to Rea. I was a good strong horse back then, but I was no use as a healer and he died half a year later.
With his death, the crone’s curse broke and I became a woman again. Rea decided to keep me around, to raise their son until he could take over his father’s business. The monastery was somewhat limited, but secure until years later, it was raided. I saddled Milady’s horse and she sped off. The stable was in flames. I don’t even know whenever I passed out in the court from the fumes or if I was trampled down by the other horses I let out to cover her escape. But when I woke, I was manacled to a chain gang once again.”
“Damn. And now?”
“I function within my natural limits… though; at times I wonder how that could happen. Again. I am too old for that sort of shit. At times, I get so bored that I think they’ve got nothing new on their side. But then, something new and good came my way,” she smiled, “and I’m not going to waste it by lying to you, Geralt. Believe it or not.”
“Got it,” he huffed under his breath, “Are you ashamed that you were an animal for a time?”
“Hm?” Velita thought about it, “No, actually not. The change itself hurt and it was confusing, but afterwards I was a whole horse, leading the natural life of a horse. But that the very person who helped me was killed in search for me; that Rea lost everything that was good in her life because I ran away… that… is hard to accept. I don’t want that anymore. And I don’t want anybody here to know. I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Geralt pulled her close, and settled his chin on top of her head. “You had one wild youth, Velita… huhh.” He exhaled softly. She had confessed, spilled her tears and lay soft and tired in his embrace, utterly spent. He felt content to keep her warm, think things through and indeed, all the suspicious traces suddenly added up. He had met his share of changelings, werewolves and so on. She was probably right; it was easier to be one thing or the other. To accept and to belong was also important. He belonged to Vesemir, to Kaer Morhen, to his brothers even though they could be a nuisance. Velita also needed that, but in her experience, once she had created a good place, it was fought over or taken away. It was probably what made her hesitant to enter a ‘normal’ relationship.
His own pendant had slipped down his pectoral, so her forehead could rest against his sternum comfortably. He had not seen any proof that she was a healer other than the practical side and herbal ingredients she handled. He wondered if the pendant she had mentioned was still around. ‘Always seeking treasures, do you, Geralt?’ With access to magical means Velita could become an asset to any lord or king. Even a gang leader …whoever drabbled in violence would be interested to have her in his camp. Even if that meant to press her into military service. But she had not said she missed her pendant, had not asked him to retrieve it. Had she stashed it somewhere..?
Maybe she just meant what she said and did not want that anymore, dropped all stakes and outer values to cease being trophy mighty men fought over. It was a path he could not follow. Even in Dol Blathanna where the bare feet of Dana Méadbh still touched the fields, only the dead had seen the end of the war.
-oOo-
An hour later, he had long ago extinguished the candles and she was sleeping soundly. He inched out gently and threw on his black shirt to step out and rekindle the fire. “Good evening, Sir Geralt.” the guard acknowledged him and continued his round. The witcher stopped him. “Good evening Sean, could you do me a favor, please?” the guy was so startled he nearly ran off. “Since you’re outdoors anyway, can you put a fresh log on every three rounds or so?” – “Sure, Sir Geralt, will do.”
The witcher returned to the chamber, wiped off his feet and stepped on the wooden platform. Velita had rolled on her other side and taken the blanket with her. It had been too narrow for both of them anyway. He stripped the shirt off and got his own larger blanket from the saddle to settle down beside her. Her hair had dried in a dark puddle on the white sheet beside. He brushed it down to her back, first to have enough space and then because he enjoyed the warm silken feel between his fingers.
Changed into black mare, she had told him among the everyday ugliness and in her matter-of-facts narration.
Somehow he could actually imagine that. Speed, elegance, valor packed in a black cover with gleaming brown highlights. The long curly mane blowing in the wind. The sheer power between his thighs, warm muscle responding nimbly to his guidance - bummer. He remembered that she had never been a tame horse. She had been a wounded warrior’s dream, …a Valkyrie arriving on the battle field - horse, maiden and healer combined in a single fighting body.
No damn mage would ever do him that sort of favor.
He smiled ruefully and extended his blanket over her shoulder, closing the gap. Underneath the serviceable routines, an unbroken will rested, flanked by a healthy ‘slide down my back’-attitude. But in her core, she cared. And he wanted to be inside her again, now more than ever. Pity he had worn her down so much to reach this level of understanding. He extended his blanket over her shoulder to keep her warm and comfortable while he picked and pulled her stuck blanket from underneath her body.
He snuggled up to her, skin to skin. She groaned in sleep and turned on her back, her forehead and elbow bumped against his chest to stay. He extended the fingers of the hand that was stuck between their bodies to massage her scalp gently. She did not wake, just arched her lower back, breathed and grew limp again. He rested his jaw on his left hand and got comfortable. This would take a lot more persuasion. His right hand wandered over her shoulder down her collarbone, his fingertips mapped her sternum, his calloused palm extended over her breast, down to the side until he felt the ridges of her rips under his fingertips. He shifted his hand to lift and move the soft padded mound, kneading gently. He ran his thumb over the nipple and tugged a bit, rolled it between his fingertips lazily before wandering off to her other breast to repeat his attentions while she came around.
Her left knee rose from the strewn position and she turned her right hand to feel for his chest. “Geralt?” she mumbled in the dark and turned to him. He slid his thigh between hers while they were still open and supported her head to kiss her. “Yes,” he nudged his groin against her right thigh eagerly, “you feel so good.” – “I like, please don’t stop.” He settled her back on the sheet to continue his attention and exploration downwards. Her skin was sleep warm. His palms slid over her ribs, down her belly. She arched her back and he reached around her waist. In the small of her back she was a bit sweaty from fitful dreams and she rubbed the apex of her thighs against his leg. She had just come around and was eager already for the pleasure he would give her. He could mount her easily, or…
“Would you honor me with a dance?” – “My pleasure, Geralt” – He smiled in the dark, took a firm hold around her waist, slid his supporting left from her head to her shoulder blades and took her with him as he turned on his back. He briefly held her with his arm around her waist as her left knee found no hold on the edge of the straw bale. He arched his back and shifted his shoulders to lift them comfortably in the middle of the bed. He extended his arm to cast igni at a lantern only he could see in the darkness.
Light bloomed in the tiny quarter. He slid his left hand down her shoulder and forearm as she straightened; her right knee brushed over the top of his thigh and settled beside his slim hips, his manhood nestled comfortably against her curly pubic hair. Their palms touched and she looked down at him smiling, her hair cascaded wildly around her shoulders.
He had needed to see she was well and she was so beautiful. He watched her pert breasts rise in tune as her hips tilted against his, her nipples stiffen with need. He needed to feel her pure longing and her groin moved with his, per palm was against his, their fingers entwined. Her other hand just rested on his shoulder but her arm marked the end of the known world and the space between their bodies filled with the warm sweet smell of her arousal.
His calloused right hand smoothed over her waist as she bent down to kiss that expectant smile on his lips. He could hear her heartbeat rush in her as she slid his tongue over his. He tilted his head, sucked hard, felt her rapid pulse pound against his chest. His manhood strained and poked her belly in response, no longer comfortable between them. She rose up again, supported her palm firmly on his and angled her body in line with his erection, nudged teasingly then inhaled deeply as she slid down on him, undulating and twisting her hips in a slow appetizing rhythm. His calloused palm slid deeper to rest on the firm slope of her butt to witness the acceleration of the gyrating mass that sunk around his center. Hadn’t he been inside of her already, the view alone would have driven him crazy.
He let her have all she wanted then started to rock with her. She varied the movement of her hips to a harder back- and forwards tilt that accelerated as she picked up on his pace. She still held onto his hand, her twitching belly button showed him the delight his manhood experienced inside. There was calm and sweetness, speed and roughness within her and between them and they sampled it all. They grew into a single being and when her time was up, her powers spent, she convulsed around him while he embedded himself deep inside her like he wanted to stay there forever, loosing himself inside of her.
She sunk down on him, plain and simple. She stretched her legs and he held her for a long time to catch their breath.
-oOo-
There was a scratch outside at the oven. Velita raised her head like a scared doe, “What’s this… outside?” she whispered. The witcher had listened to the footfalls outside for a while “That’s Sean. I asked him to fire the oven for us.” He patted her back softly “Shh, Velita, sleep well, you need it. I’m with you.” – “Thank you, Geralt,” she snuggled up to him and all was good.
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Sleeping Beauty Reloaded