The White Werewolf || Season One: Ties That Bind

Chapter Thirteen

"I thought that... after Lyria... we wouldn't..." she trailed off self-consciously.

She wanted him to, more than anything. Everything he had done to her had felt wonderful. But she also hadn't wanted to prove him right. To make him assume that she was some lovestruck ninny who wouldn't be able to let him go.

"Do you want to?" he growled.

"Yes," she breathed immediately, her hands moving to his pants and starting to unlace them since he was already straining against their confines.

"Then there's no reason we can't. It's just sex, Robin."

"Just sex, Geralt," she repeated.

Then she looked around, realizing where they were, and blinked. "But how are we supposed to do it here?"

Geralt had lifted her up into his arms before she could even finish the question. He sat down on the ground, stretched his legs out, and let her rest in his lap. He fluffed out her skirts and pulled her close until his throbbing cock was pressing against her entrance.

She put her arms around his shoulders, groaning in anticipation. "Like this?"

She swallowed nervously, looking up at him for guidance.

"Is there something wrong with this?"

He kissed her before she could answer, tangling his tongue around hers. He wanted to be inside her now.

"I was never on top before," she worried.

She didn't want to do it wrong and disappoint him.

"I'll help you, Robin," Geralt assured her, then lifted her and pushed her down on him, letting out an immensely satisfied sound as she enveloped his cock in her warm wetness.

He gripped her hips underneath her dress, looking down so he could watch her breasts bounce as he lifted her. She interrupted that view when she kissed him again and started to move on her own, just as desperate for release as he seemed to be.

It wasn't long before she cleaved to him and quivered with a long cry. After two more sloppy thrusts, he was spilling himself inside her, his fingers leaving marks on her hips as he held her tightly against him.

Once they'd cleaned up and put themselves back together, they moved over to the fire and the finished stew. Geralt set the pot on the ground in front of them and they both ate right out of it.

After a few bites, Robin glanced sideways at him. When he caught her staring and she quickly looked away, he laughed and nudged her. "You just had my cock in you out in the open, Robin," he reminded her. "You can ask me a question."

Her cheeks pinked again and he licked his lips at the sight. After a moment, she quickly blurted out, "Will you tell me about your past?"

She was very curious, naturally. But she didn't want him to feel obligated to tell, either.

He took another bite and chewed, obviously thinking. Then he shrugged. "There isn't much to tell, really. When I was a young boy, many decades ago, my mother gave me to a witcher. That man took me to Kaer Morhen, where I trained and became what I am now. I travel from place to place, killing monsters, and most people hate me in spite of it. It really doesn't make for much of a tale."

She hadn't expected anything different. It was probably the nicest version of the story there was, really. But there were other things she was more curious about. "You said the other witchers couldn't tell you were a werewolf. But it's your job to find monsters, so... how?"

"I didn't know I was a werewolf when I went. I didn't know until several years later, actually, and since I transformed out of sight of anyone else, I wasn't found out. As to the how, I'm not really sure, honestly, except for that when I transform, I don't become part man and part beast. I become an actual wolf."

"I've never heard of that," she mentioned, mulling the idea over.

"Nor have I," he confirmed. "I can't be certain, of course, but my guess is that since neither form is very technically an abomination, I don't register as a monster in some ways. Though I still do in others. As you've seen, for instance, I react to silver like any other monster I've ever fought."

He paused. Neither of them said anything for a few moments.

"I'm in complete control of myself when I transform, if you were worried." He looked up at the sky. The moon that hung in it was almost full. "In fact, I don't have to change at all, unless I want to. I was born, not cursed, so I'm not as wild as I might be otherwise. I can even remember what I do when I'm transformed."

She frowned. While some of what he'd said fit the lore she was familiar with, other parts didn't, and that disturbed her.

"Don't you find it troublesome that you don't seem to fit the traditional rules you know to be true?"

He shrugged. "I always assumed that the mutagens that made me a witcher changed that part of me somehow. It's not such a ridiculous idea, I don't think. After all, they also made me stronger and extended my lifespan, among other things."

"How did the men in Vizima know? I thought they were just repeating a strange rumor, but..."

"It happens from time to time," Geralt revealed. "Mostly because of the silver wolf medallion."

"But that just indicates the witcher school you went to, doesn't it?"

"It does. You're more well-informed than most, Robin."

"There wasn't much to do in Melcedem's tower except read, and he had a lot of books." She hesitated, then observed, "You don't let much bother you, do you, Geralt?"

He shook his head. "What's the point in worrying? Especially since I've already lived a longer life than most. I hardly have anything to complain about."

"Do you like being a witcher, then?"

She hoped he could tell it was a serious question. It sounded like he hadn't had a choice about becoming a witcher, just like she hadn't had a choice about becoming a mage, but it was still what he had ended up doing.

Geralt opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. After another bite, he confessed, "I don't really know if I've ever thought about it that way. I'm good at it, but that's not quite the same thing, is it?"

"Perhaps not," she agreed, "but then again, what do we know?"

He laughed loudly at that and then leaned over to kiss her cheek. She smiled giddily at the gesture and glanced up at him from under her lashes.

"Just know that none of it will change the way I think of you, Geralt," she told him sincerely. "And if you ever want to say more, I'll listen and be sympathetic."

"I know you will, Robin."

He fell silent as he began to eat again, and not for the first time, she found herself wondering what he was thinking.

If she had been skilled in the right kind of magic, she might have been able to find out by reading his mind.

But even if she had that ability, she wasn't sure she would use it. It wasn't information she had to know, and besides, it was much more satisfying to have him tell her himself.

Geralt leaned over and kissed her, surprising her out of her thoughts. "May I bed you again after dinner, Robin?"

She nodded. It was clear that their conversation was over, at least for now. Not that she minded that much.

But her curiosity wasn't going to vanish. As they finished eating, she reminded herself to find a book about werewolves at the next market they rode through.