Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader
Summary: You could get into Geralt's nerves if you wanted to, and you planned to try and get into his pants after refusing his evocative suggestions prior to that morning. He can still be salty and withdrawn but your insinuating gestures can make him give in. Besides, you were used to having technology as a form of entertainment, yet you were living in their world now and it seems like sex can be the only form to make you any less weary and unconfident in the continent.
Warnings: NSFW 18+. Female receiving! Sly, flirtatious, seductive Reader! Provocative words. Curses. Mention of Harry Potter again. Nympho Reader! (I mean, if you're with Geralt then I suppose this is understandable. Hmm.) Geralt being frustrated. Cheeky reader too! This is more filthier than Chapter 14? I think? Unprotected sex. (This is Geralt so don't worry?) Small tittie reader, respect to the big tittie community! Donate some to us! Lmao. 😭😂 This is smut, if you don't like it then I suggest you wait till chapter 16 is up, tater tots. Hehehe. (On second thought, chapter 16 still has a lil' bit of smut. Damn it. Hahaha. 😭😅
I'm risking it all on this one. Wattpad please don't be a killjoy for once in my life, please. Also, please do leave feedbacks as I poured all my heart in this one.
A/N: I've poured all my thirstyness (maybe not all because I still am thirsty) and power in this smut chapter, alright?! 11k words just for a smut chapter? Damn. Bring me the holy water! Also, Midget-Oh, midget. Hmmmmmm. There's a lot of visuals that I included. Heehee! PLEASE DO LEAVE FEEDBACKS! IT WILL MEAN A LOT TO ME!
Disclaimer: PNG's and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi (GIF credits: witches-ground, demivampirew, B-N-A-O)
THE CHANCE OF STEPPING OUT OF THEIR HOUSE never happened when you were one soft human that turns into a puddle whenever a witcher had some peace offering hidden under the table like an awkward magician slithering away a necklace around your neck; quietly hoping you would stop being petty over a horse.
You'll get to talk to Roach soon; face to face and in all seriousness as you plot down who's the actual main squeeze who could give Geralt what he needed and wanted.
Jaskier, Cirilla and Kolby proceeded to where they needed to go; but not before leaving without a memory that got you cackling one way or another because of some uncultivated playtime that has happened between you, the bard and Kolby.
It needed to be told. The feral tale was needed to be said to the witcher who had no idea before you'd tried to ambush his silence with your pettiness a while ago.
"Geralt?" You called out to him in a careful manner. The need for knocking thrown out of the page when you've timorously slipped your head inside the room to see him dighting his silver sword with a liquefied source of molten yellow substance that involved in the alchemy that you didn't need to learn about as said by the witcher.
He continued to polish his weapon as you'd merrily jogged to where Geralt sat on the side of his bed, never lifting his head up to acknowledge your presence. His snowy hair partly tied just like how he used to. You've offered to give him another braid but he immediately refused because of the fact that it made him look feminine---the cause of it was because of the bard's teasing the night you were in heat---his masculinity being threatened which only made you more determined to create a flower crown and put it on his head next time.
You promptly and thoughtlessly planted your derriere down on the bed, receiving a brief once over from him as he'd caught that goody-goody look in your eyes.
"I thought monsters in your world can't be tamed?"
Geralt swiftly shook his head while he sluggishly swabbed the cloth through the sharp blades of his sword.
"They really can't. That's impossible. No beast can be controlled or tamed."
Your eyes were focused on his torpid movements; those streaked, mighty hands that has already been in places that men back in earth hanker after you; his hefty, skillful hands that went under the canopy of your sanctified shadows that dispensed such light, provoking greed for whatever the luster may bring.
Dang, it was horny hours again and you know that it wasn't the Djinn's work that's functioning today.
Aureate eyes met yours, scavenging what chasteness was left when Geralt saw that slip of eagerness and he knew you wore that dress with certain objectives that he seem to understand. Oh, you wanted something and he knew you would certainly get it with how you were playing your strategies right. It was always the innocent looking ones, he silently thought.
Naive. Guileless. Starry-eyed. A midget. You. The one and only. Yet, these particular types of women still had their own devious side that comes out with people whom they were vulnerable with and the witcher was oh-so-thrilled to have known that since the moment he'd have you that night.
Hence, he longed for it again. Repeatedly and never ending. Forever.
Glowing pretty golden eyes rested upon yours. Ten seconds. You remembered what you read inside the offline book that was saved in your phone. The idea coming from a romance novel written by an aspiring author who also wrote fanfiction and a ton of other things. Simply to say, you've loved this author that you tried to think of what chapter did she write about being sexily flirtatious towards the protagonist she desired to be with because basically you were an F minus in that department.
Dolling up. Bathing. Spritzing whatever perfume you could find---sadly, that can't be done because you've asked Cirilla if she had some Victoria's Secret or a Chanel eau de toilette since you came to their world completely empty handed.
The pretty child obviously had no idea as to what it is, her face scrunch into reading that it was filled with oddity to what you meant. You've explained if she had something that could make you smelling like you were a beautiful lake goddess; she was quick to decipher what it meant and found different kinds of sweet, fragrant oils when the Djinn has given you the house; explaining that she wanted to see a lake goddess too when she's given a chance.
Razors. Oh, God. You mindfully dwelled it and even thought about it for an hour or two because you rarely shaved back in earth. Why? Questions with obvious answers should be avoided. You were a virgin---well, before you've been driven by the witcher like he was travelling towards a monster he needed to hunt---and the shavings were kept into a minimal status. Bushy all year and night from the day you've been born.
Shave the punani before getting the dickie was the exact words while you've read along the lines. It made you stomp your foot in frustration as you held onto a pretty old blade that Jaskier has which he left in the bath room. It seemed to be a tool, a dangerous one and you were contemplating on using it while staring at yourself with the small brown framed mirror hung inside the bath room. All in the nude.
You've stared at it till you've lost count; ending with a decision that you'll shave it rather than leave it trimmed. You were going all out in this one and you hoped it wouldn't fail.
Geralt was trimmed down there; not that you mind---in all honesty, it was better because you were a penchant for it---you loved a hairy witcher.
This witcher literally had you on hook when you were having issues about shaving the coochie. You'll be damned before you even know it as the idea was striking down on you. Your naive, hopeless and awkward self isn't just planning for a dick appointment with the witcher before trying to suggest or even let him know what you wanted.
It was already more than ten seconds. The time was already too much but Geralt didn't seem to want and break the stare you've planned to hold; like a challenge he confidentially rooted to win for. You took one blink before unconsciously breaking your gaze away; your heart pumping in a rush, the insides of yours lips tucked in between your teeth appearing to be utterly coquettish yet quite bashful still.
A brief, subtle touch. You've felt his heated gaze resting upon you heavily, those sharp cat-eyes narrowed for a cursory perusal of your vague skittish gestures that caught Geralt's attention. He concealed how the end of his lips wanted to lift into a small smirk when you've reached out to softly brush those dainty fingers of yours along his temples. An intentional pass that you wanted him to be locked upon and Geralt knew you were already full-aware of his enhanced senses.
The witcher didn't know if it was a good thing because of how you were using his abilities for your cunning plans ahead.
You've brushed a strand of his snowy locks behind his ear. At first, you've felt your fingers shake due to being unsure of this whole 'catch the witcher for your eager self' because of how cringey you would end up being; an utter embarrassment and humiliation for the women in their world. Howbeit, when you've received no negative reaction from him and only felt those inquisitive gaze fixated on your face alone; your advancements being candidly done without inhibition or constraints, letting you touch him like how you've wanted was evidence that you've had him hooked and lined.
"You sure about that? Because when Jaskier and I were insulting each other with Kolby in the background, I'd playfully told Kolby to protect me. I didn't expect him to. He attacked Jaskier. All fangs and wolf type of protect!"
Play with your hair. You certainly wouldn't do that without looking like a trying hard flirt. So, it was a no. Besides, Geralt seemed to like having your fingers along his hair prior to that gratifying night that has worked your body till you were drained enough. Your fingers brushed along his hair, slowly, tempting and playfully with a simple query of your alter ego asking inside your head as to 'what the hell are you doing?' when you've locked your gaze to his; giving your fingers a once over from how you were acting before looking back at those beautiful eyes.
"What if I'm like...a monster whisperer now or something? You know, your monsters trust me? I could somehow control them in some magical ways that I can't explain?"
Give him your best goo-goo eyes. Well, you were trying your best in this one. He'd given out a guttural, languorous hum alongside with a small enigmatic smile that has made you breathless. Did he somehow knew what you were playing at?
"That's not a thing." he gruffly said in a relaxed and beguiled tone. Broad, sinewy shoulders still slouched with his eyes that held a specific amount of succulence and zeal. Normal men would've already had their hands inside your dress or subtly on your knee but not Geralt; not your witcher.
You wanted to kick yourself for even planning this ahead. He continued to quietly lay his eyes on you, awaiting for what you had more in store for him like he was pushing you to your limit of embarassment; your agitation sweating your palm and he seemed to find this entertaining.
Geralt mindlessly licked his lips when you've rose to your feet; knees brushing against his as the tip of his silver sword skimmed through the silk of your dress when you stood. He'd flutter his eyes closed while your fingers caressed over his sharp chiseled jaw, feeling them tighten on the ends of your fingertips before you've turned your back, hopping off with a grin as you caught him off guard at that.
Hook, line, sinker.
"Sike. I'm still your useless immigrant then, Geralt. Don't you think?"
Though, from the moment you exited the room; you never heard nor seen how you've left Geralt in a buzz that utterly thrilled him in every depths as he deeply inhaled that new fragrance you've poured yourself in. Soft oriental with a hint of spice and citrus. There was that lemon scent you still had, floral notes that gave your presence an oomph; alluring and tempting for his palates. He'd had a long exhale of breath, his gaze penetrating and exasperated as your strong scent left a trail that would turn his alleviated self control upside down because of what you had in mind; the roused, playful and amorous feeling inside your chest not thoroughly helping his.
Oh, you were surely going to get it.
Minutes have passed---a world record that you tried hard to stop Geralt from whatever he was doing with that scent of yours---it was frustrating him to the point that he was expecting you to disturb him and run those fingers along his face, hair or where ever you wanted.
With you around, he knew his peace wouldn't be served today. To be honest, he also kinda didn't want peace without you along---but with his pent-up frustration from the act you've pulled then leaving him alone in the room? He wanted you near. Closer like how he'd been that night.
Hence, you were sure you'll be stirring his frustrations around and around until you get what you wanted.
The witcher was bathing, all stark naked with his back facing the door, strong arms spread and folded behind his back. You didn't tried to go full-ninja on him because you knew he probably already knows you were there before you could even say it. You've barged inside the bath room, crashing his minutes of solitude as he tried to cool 'himself' down.
"Geralt of Rivia! Geralt, the white haired witcher---Hi!---You're bathing again without even inviting me?! How rude of you! I can clean your hair if you want?" there it was again. That voice. That scent. You.
He didn't need to cover himself up when you've hopped to where he sat nor did he try and shielded his vulgarity. You quickly came to your knees, sitting behind him and catching how his fingers swirled upon the waters as you heard him heavily sigh.
"---I've already seen that. No need to be cranky about it!"
Geralt turned his head to see those wistful eyes twinkling in sheer mischief, "Can't I be a wizard? Let me be Harry Potter, please!"
You've entered the bathrooms just to ask him that? who even was Harry Potter? Was he another man? The name Harry didn't sound fictional compared to Legolas, he thought at the back of his head, giving you a phlegmatic glint in his eyes when he simply answered.
"You can't be an awful tiny magician--- or a Potter."
"Hey! That's a personal insult!" Your eyes turned bigger, feigning the shock from his straightforwardness. Geralt smugly cocked his head to the side; his eyes shifting to your lips and hardly trying to ignore that delectable scent you've tried to bait him up.
"But, you are tiny. My tiny mortal, isn't it? Cirilla---my child--- is even taller than you. How surprising."
Thus, Geralt knew to himself that he'd already chewed the bait before he even know it when those drenched fingers of his carefully and subtly stretched out till his rough, calloused fingertips touched the silky hem of your dress; your covered ankle receiving a tiny slide of his fingers rubbing the clothed flesh which caught your breath away.
But, you just roguishly smiled back at him; Rascally, yet still held that irritating innocence he wanted to erase. He had a touch and when his fingers pried with hope, wanting to slip under your dress; you were hasty enough to stand on your feet, running off like a naive, artless girl with the most guileless pitch as your voice echoed.
"You better continue your bath, Geralt. Wouldn't want to keep your bathwater murky! I would've cleaned your filthy looking hair right now, if I have received an invitation! But, no! I think you didn't like me wet as well!"
Geralt gave a frustrated huff when you've walked away, loudly shutting the door behind him. He couldn't help but take a glimpse of his locks, noticing it was already dirty looking before deeply sighing to himself from feeling irritated from your acts as he slightly leaned his head back whilst he closed his eyes.
Give the man a little chase before he gets a taste of heaven. Checkmate.
The latter stood in front of their wooden dining table; holding an oldest looking mortar and pestle with empty small bottles laid out in front him. You've skipped your way from the door; talking to Roach and giving him an ultimatum in which a neigh was answered. Roach was nice, a pretty tamed horse that you agreed to and officially proclaimed that his horse understood where you're coming from.
Now, you fathomed why Geralt was so attached to his horses. They were always good listeners and didn't give any drama more than what humans try to create.
"Hey, kitty!"
Every step you take had a bounce; crossing through the threshold of the kitchen. You saw Geralt concentrated on mixing or brewing strange stuff that didn't have back in modern era earth. Passing by his side to grab onto the bottle in which you've brewed your beer in. You've poured yourself a cup; too distracted by the froth that you didn't see him give you a once over before going back to grinding some sewant mushrooms.
"You're drinking ale," he frankly acknowledged.
The cup landed on the tips of your vermillion, draining the glass in one go to mollify your rickety nerves that Geralt's presence could always give; becoming one klutzy woman all the time, impulsive and unrefined, not entirely like a bloomed woman he would be so proud of.
He probably desired a woman who knew how to defend herself in their world. A strong, fierce kind; the one who could stand on her ground. Probably a lady named Yennefer or Renfri. Based on the name, they sounded gorgeous, interesting or alluring to be more precised.
Those insecure, lost thoughts were thrown back down in your throat as you took large swigs of your ale.
"Can't a woman chug down beer in this period?"
As per usual, you've received another moment of his blessed silence. Only hearing his pestel crushing whatever substance or ingredient he needed for his potions.
"Besides, I've made this and---Oh! It tastes good! Wanna try?" the fermented drink was chugged till the last drop. It had a bold assertive aroma that stayed long on the tips of your tongue, the sweetness and bitterness having such balance which got you smacking your lips together in elation. You've poured another cup of ale for Geralt, he'd simply stared at it at first but eventually took the cup in your hands before quaffing the pint in one go.
Geralt cast you a brief look; seeing your eyebrows raised to mutely ask him how it was for his taste. It has been long since the last time him and Jaskier went to a tavern to quench his thirst for alcohol and this ale you made? It was perfect. The perfect ale. You were wonderful.
"Hmm."
You've received nothing but a slothful sounding hum; turning his head to conceal the small smile that he happened to put out of sight, but not from you because you were brisk enough to peek under his majestic, clean white hair and it made you grin like a Cheshire cat.
"I know you're complimenting me in your mind, Geralt. A way to a man's heart is food. But, you're no normal man---you're a mutated one and a drunkard too so I guess one way to get through your heart is a perfectly fermented beer!"
"I'm not a drunkard."
A mocking snort was given to the latter; disbelieving what he claimed due to hearing Jaskier's stories about them both and they were always drowning themselves in the Taverns with specifically ale, coins and women. You couldn't help your smile that turned fearsome as you heard the last word. Women. Tons of women and Jaskier wasn't sure if he wanted to continue his stories because you appeared to look like you wanted to strangle him to death that time.
Your index finger had just lifted from your side, eyes glowing in perversity as it was shining with shenanigans clouding your mind. Was Geralt ticklish? You may never know unless you try.
The assessment was briskly cut short when Geralt was abnormally fast enough to drop the empty cup of ale in his hand, his fingers snatching your wrist but not violent nor painful enough. Just in the right amount to tell you he clearly didn't like what you had in mind. A no-no. He condemned the idea of tickles.
"Don't even try, midget..." the witcher gruffly scolded; voice sounding dead-beat, a scowl on his face as his fingers gently pried your wrist away from poking his sides. Your face immediately fell at that; thinking you've struck a nerve. No beer for you then, or maybe more?
"How did you---okay, sorry. No tickles. Fine." you sincerely babbled; feeling the effect of the beer tingling your toes inside your boots.
Geralt caught sight of your disappointed pouted lips. You were the first to look away, thoughtlessly scanning everything laid on the table; trying to decipher what looked familiar for you. Mushrooms. Leaves. A lot of leaves that you didn't know where it came from. You didn't felt utterly incompetent except today and from the day you've arrived in their dimension.
The witcher was staring at your concentrated face, examining each 'peculiar' ingredient with your whole attention; totally heedless of Geralt's eyes thoroughly fixated to marvel your curiosity for what their world holds out for you rather than continuously losing yourself and being in an uncontrollable rage.
Your body temptingly brushed his, your shoulders grazing against the side of his arm. Get him feeling connected via physical intimacy. The white wolf wasn't a hypocrite to tell that he wasn't liking every bit of those subtle skinship you were trying to give. He genuinely missed it after three days of minimal touching or talking when his family was around, cursing himself for whatever time out you needed or wanted and it was beginning to take a toll on him.
His sly fingers slid across your back, his rough palms skimming through the fabric; silk just like your skin, till you've felt his comforting arm snaking behind you, his palm gently grabbing onto your waist; right under the tube corset that got you biting your lips in exhilaration.
Your heart was popping like fireworks in the fourth of July or basically a fresh start of the new year. Now, he wanted what you wanted too and you were really sure of that when his fingers began to thrum along your side, looking like he was trying to get a hold of himself and thinking of something he couldn't say out in the open.
You were ticklish. His fingers drumming along your sides weren't helping but the gesture was a rare one and you didn't want it to stop. Geralt's fingers and arm surrounding you felt like you've won the lottery ticket. It was worth all the tickles.
But, you wanted to build all the tension up. More. So, you've taken the empty cup on the table and slithered out of his arms.
Geralt couldn't help but skeptically raise his brows together; humming in amusement from this game you decided to play when you've scurried off beside him to pour yourself another.
"I thought you don't mix your own potions?"
He so wanted to lay you on the table and have his way with you. Howbeit, he could feel you wanted a little more chasing and a lot more of his pent-up frustrations to heat him up; thus, you'll be getting it if you continue further. The witcher was already doing his best to touch you, awkward and very subtle ways that tries to send the messages that you both should just ravish all this yearning out; on the floors, table, bed or wherever you wanted. Geralt was game.
Yet, you decided to be oblivious of his fingers thrumming along your clothed skin and the way he was fondling with the ties of your tube corset; resisting the urge to tug them off and impale you with that sweet dress on.
Geralt was unaware of the tight grimace that carved his lips, he mindlessly grabbed onto his tools again, quickly inspecting the potions that were needed to make; trying hard to ignore what was keeping his mind in a jungle, when you've sneaked up beside him again to curiously watch what he was doing, your scent crashing his nose that made him exhale a breath he has been holding.
"Oooohhh, witchy!"
Two cups. Only two cups of ale before you become weird and do whatever the hell you wanted that would surely embarass yourself from how you wanted this sneaky plan of yours to fall smoothly. You didn't need or wanted to vomit while having sex.
Perks of being used to having entertainment with technology then being placed in a world with no chance of having it---you were finding something to spend the time or even to pour all your feelings out.
"Do you know how to also brew elixirs that can induce love?"
The tingly pricking of the beer started to travel up your spine. Alcohol never made you drunk with three to four cups; however, it surely made you brazen that whatever comes up inside you mind, you would tell. Frankly and downright to the point.
The witcher held onto his pestle, taking a gander before he stated and watch you take several sips of your cup, "I told you, witchers aren't mages. I slay monsters---not receive coins to offer them some droll concoction,"
"So, you just really hunt monsters; try your best to save humanity although it can't be saved, know some little spells---like what kind? Is it possible for you to teach me?---probably not---Is this how you make your own healing potions and those kind of stuff. On your own?"
You were too curious for your own good.
Geralt ceased his mixing and gestured with his pestle, slightly twirling it in the air to tell that it was correct without looking back at you. You nodded to yourself, proud of your comprehension for what he does. Your question was simply swerved, curious if he does everything on his own. Doesn't he have a co-worker or some sort in his type of job? you mutely asked yourself. Other witchers? was he the only one?
"Aw, man. How about Kolby turning into human? Does your elixirs do that?"
"You don't wanna know what these potions are for,"
"But, I do! It's so cool---like we're in a RPG fantasy-action game! If we were in a game right now? I'll be calling all of this as 'The Witcher'! Cool huh? I would probably earn a lot of money from it!"
The white wolf dropped the mortar and pestle with a soft thud; grabbing onto a small bottle that contained some kind of charcoal that has been liquified, "Black blood." he gave the bottle to you, carefully placing it on top of your outstretched palms as Geralt began to articulate, "Turns an imbiber's blood into poison,"
"Can I drink this?" you truthfully inquired, curiosity filling your senses while you stared at the bottle of potion in your hand with an elevated shimmer in your eyes.
"---If you bite me, will you get poisoned too?"
He eyed you in pure incredulity, waiting for you to take your question back because of how spontaneous it sounded and also dense if you were serious. But, you'd only beamed back at Geralt; your fingers fumbling with the cover of the elixir. The latter grabbed onto the concoction and fished it away from your hands before your impulsiveness could even decide for you.
"You'll die before you even know it." he simply enunciated, carefully putting it back to where it was placed.
Geralt went back on grinding the substances inside his mortar; thoroughly concentrated on what was needed to be done as you continued to disturb him. Your fingers softly tapped the wooden table; eyes focused on his unbelievable side-profile that always left you in wonder if he was even real.
"You know you have adorable fangs that looked like it has probably been filed down," pause, "---unless you're actually a vampire or a werewolf and you're keeping it from everyone,"
He saw you grab onto your unfinished cup of ale in his peripheral vision, "You sound too excited to know if I'm some sort of higher vampire or a werewolf as you say,"
Before the rim could even land on your lips, Geralt gently pried it away to swig the beer in one gulp; placing the drained cup on his side where you couldn't reach for it again. You knew what he was doing. The witcher didn't want you as drunk as a lord when he would do the business with you. He wanted you clearheaded when he could just find the right time to have his way and you were smart enough to have read the signs correctly.
"Do your golden eyes turn black?" a change of a subject to curve the obvious. He didn't answer your question and had his hand on the table while the other land graciously on his hip before seriously peering down; contemplating how to answer you in a way that would sound normal in your world.
But, his second of pondering got you giddily exuberant for that fact that it made you clap like a child, "Your silence means yes! Ohhhhh! I wanna see it sometime! Let me see it sometime, Geralt!"
He intently stared, scanning for any reaction that would tell you were frightened about the realization that his eyes turn black in such circumstances. Yet, all he has ever seen was a small woman who was ecstatic over the knowledge about their elixirs. If it were any normal woman who didn't came from their world and magically appeared? she probably would find any reason to die. But, not you.
Oh, you surely were one crazy woman.
Bindweed. It was the last thing he extracted that will be used for his hunt for a Bloedzuiger the day after tomorrow. He was leaving again and you didn't know what to feel about that. Another week of not seeing him? The point didn't seem to be very much of a bother after bedding it out three days ago. Your Cicatrix wasn't troubling you in those nights after Geralt has bed you, though it was probably because he was just around so that was why it wasn't giving its own tantrums.
The whole idea of the scar on your chest was still totally weird, it was like a curse that the Djinn has cast upon you. For what purpose? You didn't know because you certainly didn't pray to be cursed like this. Wanting to be bred like an animal? Feeling whatever the witcher is feeling?
His emotions seemed to be doubled for any normal human for Christ's sake. Add the fact that you were also too needy when he wasn't around like you can't get to live without him?
The whole Djinn effects was utter bullocks.
You were kneeling on the marbled kitchen counters, opening a cabinet and reaching for a bowl that Jaskier foolishly hid at the very top; ignorance is bliss for his side because he was only a foot shorter than Geralt, also taller than Cirilla and especially you because your existence felt like they were living with a dwarf but his friend thought that it seemed to be a great idea to place all the bowls on the highest place.
"Kiiiiittttttyyyyyyyy!" you bellowed out of the blue; no one in particular because Geralt was out and probably just wandering near the vicinity of the house. Nonetheless, you were silently hoping he heard your sudden declaration and call for him.
You were clueless of his presence that was near. He'd came in before you could even loudly demand for his help. Geralt had stepped inside the house, welcoming to a sight that has him leaning on the doorway to see what you had in mind for kneeling on the kitchen counters, your arm totally stretched high to reach the plates while he silently watched you like a hawk. He also noticed you were struggling with your dress; mumbling curses beneath your breath while you fixed and tugged them out from under your knees.
"I can't reach the darn plates---!!"
Rough, calloused fingers paved its way beneath your outfit. Water and gravel mixing together as his fingers swiped along your silk skin; oblivious of his limbs hiding under your dress, his palms gliding through your legs, reaching up for your thighs that made you hitch a breath, momentarily ceasing your actions.
"You should've called for me. It's impossible for a midget to reach the cupboards." he gruffly but softly says. His warm breath brushing through your shoulder, the juxtaposition of his body close to yours was rousing up the reason why you've worn the dress in the first place; to frustrate him any more you could. Sneaky fingers groped through the edges of your unclothed thighs which ignited a tiny jerk of your body because of his warm hands coming in contact on your skin; brazenly forthwith and brass for touching you when you least expect it.
You turned your head to look behind; seeing him concentrated on his fingers going on an expedition inside your dress, giving your spine the delicious shivers it had given prior to that particular night you remember so well. He was finally trying to have his way with you again.
"I did. That's why you're here right---wait---why are your hands up inside my dress, Geralt?"
Play dumb and not get caught. It was a wholesome question that sounded a bit ingenuous for your previous schemes. You've simply turned around; obvious that he wasn't going to be keeping up his distance anymore and relish into the temptations that was making him crazy for you. The proximity of his face near yours caught your breah away, his hands on either side of your dress; hiking it up when you've comfortably sat on the kitchen counter, legs closed to whir him on as he stood in front.
"You have no...?" he deeply trailed off.
His eyes followed a path of his fingers gliding through your knee and along the side of your supple thighs till the curve of your hip that should've had what you always wore. From that, he earned an audible gasp from your surprised self, "Panties?" you innocently whispered; voice abnormally guileless and alluring at the same time.
"That." he was charmed, and Geralt seemed to be bewitched; utterly distracted when your own dexterous little fingers skimmed along the fabric of his buttoned-up tunic. Your touch bringing him in a faraway madness that you have created.
Geralt raked his intrigued amber peepers from the flesh of your skin up to those hardened little nubs that started to become taut under your sweet, precious attire; all becoming provocative as the sweetness have been erased without wearing any bra.
"You also have no..." The witcher deeply breathed through his nose; features all stoic while his jaw tightened, his senses thoroughly fixated on how your fingers were brushing along his shirt; teasingly and tempting.
"A bra? Don't women own a bra in this period?"
"They don't." he gritted his teeth, tilting his head as hr fluttered his eyes closed like he was smelling something so pleasureable, tickling his palates. Geralt could taste the fervor running in between your thighs with only his sense of smell and it was already heating him up in ways that got his cock twitching.
"You've been seeing women flashing their tits then?!"
"Hmm."
"Don't hmm-hmm me! Take your hands off inside my dress!" the latter was gripping onto your unclothed hip; the underwear lost in the pile of dirty clothes you have already washed alongside with theirs; like the typical young mother who suddenly had two children to supervise.
Besides, knickers can be quite a hindrance when you wanted to be dicked down by a pretty gifted witcher. Easy access for him and also a very huge advantage for both parties.
Hence, this whole 'take your hands off inside my dress?' thing was just an act of your adventurous, impulsive self because you were dripping down there in anticipation especially when Geralt was looking so uncertain if he needed to just throw you off the table and pull your dress up to have a snack.
"I can't be sure if you weren't also looking at other women's boobs like this if this small tits of mine can get you ogling at my taut nipples then this means you've done more for the bigger tittie department!"
This was how you wanted to play, Geralt knew that and dangerously let out a breath in one slow puff. Your fingers dragging touches along his arm that added more heat and vitality to his cock that was raging inside his pants. Only one innocuous touch and it made you detrimental for his sanity. The power you hold as a foolish mortal who didn't come from their world was a nightmare and also a dream.
Geralt turned his head a little too close for your mind to comprehend. His nose suddenly touching yours, mouth an inch away for searing kisses that was needed to share. You've felt the cold breeze hit your legs, lately aware that he was still hiking your dress up, still decent because it covered your wet lady parts that was starting to tingle.
His breath was hitting your tightly closed mouth; stubborn but actually crafty for appearing to be chased and Geralt surely loved the hunt. Mouth critically close to yours, he opted to go in for a kiss when you've suddenly expressed a short giggle that etched a frown off his face. You playfully shook your head, moving away from his itching lips.
You were in for games, but the witcher wasn't one to play.
"Open." Geralt hoarsely grumbled, one hand slipping out of your dress to roughly glide upon your torso, passing through your hardened nipples and intentionally not giving it the attention it needs. Those thick fingers of his grabbing onto the nape of your neck, keeping your head steady with his mouth keen and predatory to attack your lips; close enough for the longing that can be read.
"What? My mouth? My arms? My legs? So you could feel my damn vagina?! Oh, you're not having this, Geralt!"
He audaciously went in to give you a soft peck to test the waters, expecting more resistance and some punch to his chest because he was so sudden, but you let him. There was no resistance from you nor do you ever plan to. The kiss was sweet, delicious and unsatisfying but blissful for his fervent thirst.
He left your lips with a soft, saccharine twang; tickling the affections to grow deeper and impeccable. Those lips which tends to be quiet all the time, yet with one sugary buss was simply everything for you. The graze of his pillowy lips among yours was enough words to be said that Geralt was also feeling the same way.
In your hopeless romantic perspective, it was enough. But, to your practical and insecure self? you need proof and words that he does.
"Your words may seem to be the exact opposite of how you are acting, midget." Geralt whispered against your lips, watching your ajar mouth; waiting to be quenched.
"---You've been damp since the moment you've worn this dress," his kisses turned wet and eager as the large hand behind your neck brushed along your hair, sending shivers running down your spine as he had your lower lip in between his, molding like clay; smooth and painstakingly refined for your taste.
"---Even hours before." he ceased a second to whisper words in between his kisses before going in for another, "---I know what you feel," and another breathtaking buss that took your thoughts off your mind; never comprehending what he was saying as your legs felt like jello when you've felt the tip of his tongue slipping through your mouth to give yours a little taste that had you softly whimpering.
"---also what you've been planning all along,"
Those kisses of his turned thirsty, eager and aching; his fingers around your nape already off before you know it and you've been smothering him with kisses off your own accord. The other pried your legs open for his benefit as he slipped in between your hiked up dress and opened thighs, letting his warmth embrace your soul.
"And what do you think I've been planning all along, Love?"
Love.
His hearing never disappointed him and seeing your dazed, twinkling eyes caught in his spellbound? It was like destiny waited for this moment to fuck his emotions up a lot more than it could take. The endearment giving him false hope that maybe fate was never ill-omened all the damn time.
Geralt stared into your soft ones; blazed and yearning, his doubled up emotions soaring high that got his fingers grasping hard on your hips as he deeply stared into your eyes, "You're planning to ruin me, my sanity, beliefs...." he took a moment to pause, dragging his fingers under your knee, cupping them all at once when he'd suddenly pulled you closer to his chest while he heavily breathed.
"---I've been fighting off my destiny since then, bringing me closer to the brink of spite---leaving me crestfallen and in chaos. Though, with you; I feel like I shouldn't fight it at all." pause, "---It's time I accept what it has to offer for me,"
Your body jerked forward when you felt his palms squeezing your thighs, going higher and higher until you've felt your dress hike up in an indecent amount that blew cold air amongst your moist heat.
"Oh, fuck me."
It was a mere beg of a whisper before his mouth was hot on yours. His hands were all over you; impatient and greedy, demanding for more and hoping to ruin. Hungry fingers wormed around your back, pulling the ties off in haste as he devoured your mouth; all tongue and teeth to soothe both desires.
Your belt corset was thrown off to the side before his hands were on you again, clawing over the silk clothing that he seem to plan on leaving while he begins to ravish. Easy access all the way. He tugged the bust part of your dress down, your taut nipples slipping out of its home as his hands immediately palmed over your breasts, keenly kneading as it made your core throb.
Geralt avidly accepted the mewl you happened to emit, lapping your tongue with his. Your trembling, enthusiastic fingers grabbing onto his shirt that was tucked inside his trousers, hungrily yanking them off its place; wanton fingers sneaking under to caress over his chiseled stomach and bewhiskered chest. He lowly groaned at that, his hand crept towards where the sun doesn't shine; his rough fingers meeting your dripping core.
You've happened to sharply intake a breath when his fingers traveled to your aching, wet slit. The tips of his fingers meeting your sweet, honeyed arousal that had his cock jerking inside his pants. With your mouth ajar, eyes in a haze of his provocative advancements; he halted from kissing you, feeling the slippery coating against his fingers made him heavily breath through his nose.
"I accept...you," the latter whispered against your lips, hot breath fanning with his fingers spreading your wetness along your slit; making your eyes flutter close from how he began circling your beating nub with his thumb, massaging in a way that earned a faint moan from your lips because he knew where you needed to be touched.
"---Whatever it takes, midget."
At that been said, he'd collected you in his burly arms. Accepting all your weight with no effort as he firmly surrounded your booted feet around his beefy body. His hands were on your derriere when he lifted you making you gasp in surprise, snapping you out from the ecstacy of his fingers rubbing your clit.
"Geralt!" you exclaimed, your arms hugging his shoulders as he brought you somewhere else.
He only needed to turn before you felt your ass flat on the wooden table. You immediately grabbed onto his sharp jaw to give him another sweet kiss in which he gladly accepted; lips torridly in a heated dance as his hot mouth left open mouthed kisses along your naked shoulders, nibbling as he does so when he found that spot on your neck that always get you moaning weakly just like how you've did last three days ago.
"Oh god," a moan left your lips when Geralt sucked that sweet spot which has made you grab onto his shirt, dragging him closer to you; accepting everything he could give. Everything.
If sex felt so good like this, you would take him any day or every damn minute, you've thought to yourself as he continued his violation. It was good, so good.
Geralt licked a stripe down your cicatrix, igniting a subtle buck of your hips and the leather of his pants rubbing against your throbbing core. You needed pressure. His hands were on either side of your thighs, pressing and kneading before you've felt his calloused palm on your shoulder, gently pushing you back till your elbows were on the dining table; laying before the witcher who seemed to want and devour the feast that was served below him; his lips kissing all around your chest as he tweaked a nipple in between his fingers that made you salaciously moan.
Guess you needed to sanitize the dining table soon before his family comes back.
The way his long white hair fell on your body, like a feather tickling your unclad breasts as he peppered butterfly kisses along your chest. His fingers was replaced with his own mouth, taking your hardened nipple as he suckled. You intently watched how he'd assaulted them to your own pleasure.
Geralt sucking yours tits was a whole snack and a moment to remember, his teeth urged a breathless whimper out of your mouth as he softly tugged a nipple with his teeth; travelling down south. He continued to pour his attention, glorifying your body like no one ever has.
This witcher would surely be the reason of your early death.
"Geralt?" you breathlessly asked and felt his lips ghosting over your tousled, clothed torso.
Your elbows supported you while you laid back on the table, curiously inspecting what he had in mind. He wouldn't give you head will he? Do men in their world gave heads to women? They probably behead people, that was what you knew in their era. Geralt didn't seem to be that type who takes pleasure by tasting women with his mouth, you silently thought to yourself. His whole aura speaks to you that he was much more of a receiver than a giver.
Yet, he was born to change that impression.
He spread your legs apart, thoroughly exposed under his presence. Weak and helpless with his kisses. With a simple flick of his wrist, the image of your slick slit glistened under the daylight. It roused something wild within him. You've stared upon how his amber eyes turned midnight with atrocious desires that excited your pulsing cunt.
"Geralt," you heaved breaths and called for him; sounding more of a moan rather than catching his attention. You wanted to see him, needed to see those glowing golden eyes but he seemed to be in a trance. What if he found it weird? Your newly shaven cunt?
"It---It probably looks weird----O-Oh!"
Your train of thoughts and the self-doubt was cut short when he'd quickly knelt before you. The big white wolf moving down to drown in your arousal as his mouth bombarded your sopping slit with his tongue. Breathing went staggered after that, head thrown back as Geralt dedicatedly went down on you, the shaven mound making everything better as you could directly feel his lips on your heat.
You didn't expect that. At all. This was the first time and a moment to tick 'being eaten out on a plate' off your bucket list because you were being devoured on the buffet table by a hungry, famished man.
Ball of white hair sat in between your legs, an arm keeping your thighs open while the other slipped in between your soaking slit, two fingers spreading them apart as the pad of his tongue wholly licked your heat. The muscle lapping along in between like a cat deprived of water; utterly thirsty for the cream he needed to taste.
"U-Ugh---Good, so good!"
The immodest moan you've let out echoed around the first floor of the house. Sunlight wrapping you in its gleam while being eaten out on their dining table; the position very debauched to ones liking, but you both didn't care as you were caught in the heat of the moment. He'd gradually licked another stripe, blazing amber eyes piercing while he watched you writhe before his mouth.
Your body trembled in delight when the witcher used his teeth to lightly bit on your throbbing little nub, ushering your head to fall back as your breath audibly hitched out loud. You were pushing him closer by your heeled boot laying on his back and he slurped the juice beginning to drip out of your mound that made your body shake in ecstacy. The sound driving you wild.
Muscles were beginning to contract as Geralt went on, scarfing you with his tongue and mouth with your moans being music to his ears. You've shakingly pulled yourself off the table, face scrunched up in pleasure with the triggering image of your witcher lapping up what was being served in front of him.
Your fingers went on to grab onto his hair, slightly yanking them which emitted a feral groan from the latter who sent a glare before you. Those cat eyes indulging the debauchery you've given when you've started to chant out moans that had Geralt humming before your heat, urging him to take that orgasm out of you.
His groans and humming did it for you, it vibrated your core in pleasuring ways and you couldn't help but gasp when you felt it approaching. Geralt's thick arms kept your thighs from closing nor thrashing against his hold as he slurped and received every last drop.
"Ugh, yes, yes!"
Leaving your sensitive heat with a pop and a sticky string of your sluice, he'd lastly kissed the valley of your beating mound. Torso to mouth, the witcher trailed honeyed kisses; his lips leaving a transparent, wet trail from his drenched mouth covered with your juices. Your body was still in spasm and feeble from the wondrous 'head' that Geralt has given; peeling you away of the reality that he'd began making out with you again.
You could taste yourself in his mouth, his tongue diving in yours that made you wary of what your cum actually tasted like and you didn't know what to feel about it. A palm sat on top of his chest while you ceased the kiss and pulled back, curiosity filling in your peepers with a question in your mind.
"Was that---was that how I---" Geralt gave a second and waited for what you needed to say but eventually grabbed onto the back of your neck, eagerly connecting his lips against yours with scorching busses; leaving no questions to be answered and subtly telling you he had no focus to answer such as of the moment.
You've clawed onto the back of his head, nails roughly scratching against his roots that pulled a deep whimper against your lips. The first time he'd actually moan after doing everything for you and it began to sprinkle some thrill for that coil starting to push you in another blissful haze that you certainly needed and want.
Naughty fingers reached down for the buttons of his trousers, popping them open one by one. Howbeit, in the middle of it all, you somehow lay hold of the hem of his shirt, tugging on it with a silent message that you wanted it off him while the blistering kisses went on. Your lungs heaving from the intensity of what sex was giving you.
"Off," you demanded in between kisses as you started peeling it off him. Geralt briefly had a second of stripping his shirt away; utterly impatient as he threw it elsewhere. Once seeing him half naked; all muscles and raw, your fingers reached out for his necklace, eagerly pulling him back to your mouth, instantly caressing his medallion and that thatch of hair you seemed to love every time he was bare for you.
His breeches were all buttons and no zippers; giving you more work before having the pickle inside your jar. Geralt smothered kisses down your jaw with your fingers acting up the same time as it slipped inside his half-buttoned pants. He was rock hard, probably made of steel from the moment your fingers briskly came in contact with his cock.
You've felt him suck and lick that part on your neck when you've titillatingly grasped your hand around his bulbous head, those fingers of yours never enclosing around his girth; meaning to say, he was a little above the average in length but monstrous with the width. Geralt grunted when you've lightly trailed your finger along the protruding vein under his cock; your touch sending him unbridled joy before kicking him to Utopia when you've given him one innocent squeeze that ignited a frustrated groan that has made him snatch your hands out of his pants.
A moan of protest have been silenced with another set of burning kisses. He unlatched all the buttons open, fervently tugging his trousers down till his hardened girth slapped his torso. Commando, obviously. The witcher hauled your dress higher, folding on the line between your bellybutton; deeply kissing you as he eagerly laid you back down.
He needed to be inside you now. It was torturing him. A lot more than you could ever say. Geralt grabbed onto the base of his cock, giving it one tight stroke; shifting in between your widely opened legs like an eagle; happily to receive a rumpy-pumpy.
You were grabbing onto his face, kissing him like your life depended on it when your breath hitched as you felt the head of his cock on your clit, putting enough pressure to bring you into a fantasy that you wished will carry on forever.
Geralt coated his bulbous head with your creamy juices, dragging the tip down till it ceased on your entrance. His golden peepers looked deep within the windows of your soul, searching for any evidence that you had no ounce of wanting to have such an intimate moment with him. But, he saw none and only profound affection that made him feel a lot of emotions he couldn't explain.
The djinn was technically not controlling you both on this one. The sexual intimacy happening right now was all on you both and not the weird scar that the djinn has cast upon you.
You've deeply stared into his eyes, the small beam curling your lips was inevitable as your thumbs tenderly caressed the apples of his chiseled cheekbones, soothing his worry for whatever he was thinking and to just follow what his instincts say.
Thus, in that moment; Geralt knew he wouldn't want to be away from you; the idea of you who needed to come back to the dimension you've ought to live was making it difficult for what people have been trying to make him accept.
His destiny that he now welcomes. You were his destiny and it would take him a lot more emotional breakdown if this fate he had with you would be taken away in just a blink of an eye.
The sunshine sparkled your beads of sweat falling on your forehead. How innocuous you appeared to be; smiling below him like you weren't about to be nailed down on a wooden dining table that seemed to have a dangerous life ahead for whatever Geralt decided on how you'll take him today.
He watched your face contort into sheer pleasure once he'd eased in, his fat cock fully stretching you out as he gently pushed his way inside of you with a tight snarl. You were choking in your own breath by how massive he felt no matter how many times you've had him prior to the night before. His size brought you in a state of rapture, mouth forming an 'O' as he sheathed himself to the brim.
"Y-Your size always...overwhelms me," you breathlessly muttered close to his lips, you've held onto his frowning face; both hands on either side while you gaze up at the brawny witcher. Sincerely talking to him through as he heavily breathed through his nose. Detached from the overall connection you were giving because he didn't want to lose himself in the presence of you.
But, you didn't want any of that. You wanted to see him; the real Geralt. You wanted him vulnerable. Again. Everyday if it was possible. All of his worries out in the open. You wanted him to act on his primal instincts, "It's okay," you started; like a chant of a spell you've cast as the witcher intensely stared into your eyes.
"---It's just you and me, Geralt. Just us alone,"
He was throbbing inside of you as he stilled, the feeling of his cock filling your mound to the hilt brought an inaudible shaky breath out of him. Geralt slowly pulled out, the tip sucking him in before painstakingly driving inside up until the base; letting you adjust to his girth as he languidly shoved himself over and over; like a smooth, slow tidal wave.
It took him numerous, gradual thrusts; dipping the toe under the waters as he intently watched your mouth mutter soft mewls whenever his cock fills you in a motion that brings you sheer pleasure. He wanted to remember how he'd make you come undone, the way you say his name like it was the only word you worship and adore or how you feel surrounded in his arms.
His keen eyes snapped to where the filth was happening, utterly admiring how you were taking him whole. Your slick coating his thick cock that went on and on with his pushes. The viscious sounds it emits from how he was claiming you till the echo of moans making him wild.
But, out of the blue, he felt your heel on the curve of his curvaceous derriere, dragging him closer, roughly making his hip snap forward from your sudden want to be spontaneously impaled with roughness.
That sharp thrust of his hip made the table screech, your body aching in a way that wanted more; a lot of that urgent onslaught and less of the vanilla as quoted back in earth. Your back arched at that, your pussy clenching when he drove back in. His elbow resting on your side to keep himself from crushing you against his weight while his other hand were tightly grasping on the side of your hips as he started his pace.
Your walls fluttered around him. He deeply grunted on the side of your ear as you've kept him close; arms surrounding his shoulders while he gradually started to pummel; thrusting himself in a momentum that got your face scrunched in utmost pleasure. Your second orgasm felt like it was building up; though, it needed more power, more strength.
"A-Ahh---m-more! More! Please, more!" you loudly moaned in the midst of being impaled; pushing him closer to you with a simple nudge of your booted heel.
The action made him grind on you, his unshorn pelvis rubbing against your clit as your body quivered beneath him. Your spine feeling the heat coiling with a want to come. Diluted, dark amber eyes stared straight into yours, his chest fluttering at the obscene look on your face as he corrupted you over and over. Your spine arched beneath him, Perky breasts brushing against his chest with your nails clawing behind his back as he pounded into you.
You've bucked your hips, meeting his harsh thrusts; becoming one with the witcher as he bottomed out, hitting a spot that got your cunt clenching around Geralt, making you flutter your eyes shut from how it felt so heavenly.
It made him whimper on top of you. "T-There! Right there, Geralt! Oh---ugh!"
Grabbing onto his back a little more tighter; hanging onto dear life, your mouth emitted more salacious moans beside his ear. Mind going elsewhere as you didn't know what it was even saying while Geralt fucked you into oblivion; hips snapping like pistons that has your body moving repeatedly on the flat surface, letting you know you were being glorified by a demigod---or a witcher to be precised.
The table squeaked from all the ministrations it was receiving. He'd set his angle in the way you've moaned how you liked it, urgently ramming repeatedly with his hand tightly grabbing onto your hips; leaving bruises but not enough to injure you. Your scent crashed into his mind, making him forget everything he could ever think of with only the heat of you thrashing beneath him.
"So, so, so, gooood! Ah, fuck!" you cried out, caught in the heat of sex and accepting how it made you feel a lot of unbelievable things. Geralt kept his face tucked a little above your head due to the obvious height differences, he was ferociously stabbing your fluttering walls; corrupting you in ways you didn't expect.
"Fuck!" he snarled and moaned at the same time, thrusts becoming more needy, sharp and sloppy.
"Oh, god! I-I'm close! Yes! Yes!"
You've felt the second orgasm coming like fireworks, Geralt's harsh assaults turning more sloppy as he was finding his own bliss. Your nails clawed onto the swell of his tight ass; all hard and muscles, bucking up to meet his thrusts and to help him reach his own orgasm. He grunted on your ear when you've tightly clenched around him for multiple times already. Your fingers reaching down to his balls as it tightened against your touch.
You've fondled them in your palm, his urgent rut reaching your high. The rainbows finally showing itself after the rain. Geralt impelled you in several more sloppy jabs before your walls gripped him hard, bringing him down in a flush, coating his cock with your cream. His face left beside yours, half lidded eyes watching you flutter your eyed close. The witcher's breath silently hitching while he felt your thighs shake, knowing you came harder than you expected. He suddenly stilled inside you, his come spreading through you like a heated fog as he filled your walls; painting them like no one has ever did before.
Geralt watch you come down to your high, even felt the goosebumps that rise your skin when he has deeply shot his warm seed, letting you take all that he can offer like you were his good girl. His good midget.
Your back arched to the fullest, white splotch flying all over with your eyes closed; seeing stars and probably another reality that got you whispering out words that suddenly popped inside your head; words of your unconsciousness washing over you as the orgasm made you lightheaded.
Words were shut out. Souls connected together as one. The hard hit of your orgasmic bliss flushing your faces. He'd rode your high with a few more thrusts before fully pulling out, his cum dripping out of you when he does so. His hearing being shut off by how the orgasm hit you both, he tenderly stared down at you, his arm sliding down your back as he caught you in his arms, delicately sitting you up as he was about to press a kiss to your swollen, crimson lips when you've suddenly mouthed out words that made him pull him out of his reverie.
You were heavily catching your breath; eyes fluttered shut while you were brought to your own alternate universe. Limbs trembling. Consciousness being shut down after recovering from your high; never realizing that you were enveloped in his large arms, the way your mouth moved were heedless of your own conscience.
'I love you,'
It felt like his reality slowed down; every senses locked upon what he has gathered in his arms. Geralt's eyebrows furrowed tightly together, anticipating what was next but it was as if he was waking up from a dream, turning deaf as your mouth moved to utter more words that seem unfathomable to his current state.
"What...did you just say?"
He knew what he saw; and he also knew the fulfilling heaviness dragging his heart down to the pit like you've said something wrong. Geralt knew what he was feeling right now wasn't his because the witcher was sure that it should be the opposite after thinking everything through with you.
Yet, why did he feel nervous? Right. It wasn't his. He was feeling yours.
The witcher knew he wasn't hallucinating. He wasn't even poisoned for him to be experiencing those kind of situations; but with your next words, you've made him feel that way.
"Floors?" the sound of your voice was much clearer. You feebly croaked out to him, patting his powerful, bare chest for the third time; his eyes in a surprised daze, the glint within his amber tells you he wasn't listening like his soul was brought into another dimension. It was a first to see him like the way he is right now.
Hence, you repeated; peering up at his peepers with a faint beseeching tone, "I said floors next. I didn't say anything more, Geralt. Come on. Unless that was enough for you?"
His fixated gaze was intense. Soul-prying and demanding for answers as he deeply stared. He couldn't wash the feeling away; that troubled, bothered sensation pumping his chest. Geralt held onto you a little more safer. Tighter. Palms going straight to your derriere, lifting you up the table as it squeaked.
Once you were lifted off, an unfortunate issue happened. One of the table's legs shattered; resulting with you being in a giggling fit as Geralt stood, giving it a plain glimpse as he didn't seem moved after your verbose accident.
Your arms embraced his shoulders a little more secure than before as he stared onto your giggling face before gently setting you down on the floors, automatically toppling over you. He attacked you with enthusiastic kisses while he kept you pinned down with his weight, assaulting your lips with a fiery buss that could keep his mind off with what words he just saw and deciphered from those impulsive lips of yours.
Geralt was sure you've mouthed those three words back at him; but, his mind was in a haywire because he didn't know how to react at that, especially with a phrase that the witcher isn't used to hearing nor receiving in his world full of monsters.
Too long? Heehee. I'm sorry, I think I had a fun time writing this out. Heehee! FEEDBACKS ARE SO MUCH APPRECIATED!