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It always started out the same. They’d find each other in a dank and dirty tavern, surrounded by the filth and grime of the local villagers, or stumble across one another in a forest chasing down a beast for opposite reasons, or being roped in to some rich merchant or aristocrats blind adventure to find a treasure or secure some land. In a sick way, Geralt enjoyed the slippery and slick feeling of anticipation and dread that threaded its way up his spine whenever he’d take a job and be confronted with the all consuming and all encompassing presence of Yennefer. He never intentionally set out with that goal but more frequently than he liked it’s how things ended up. Surrounded by hostile and suspicious locals, they’d take a corner in a tavern and drink their ale or eat their meal and he knew they’d end up joined together in her bed in whatever space she had enchanted for that purpose. There was a comforting sense of routine in their meetings that defied whatever the reality of their situation. No matter how dangerous, no matter how mundane, Geralt always knew that in the end he and Yennefer would meet and then inevitably part and one of them would be wounded by the parting. For people who were supposed to feel nothing or to be in full control of themselves, neither was particularly good at keeping their emotions out of their business despite the rumors and their training. They were, in a way, failures.
“So when did you notice that you’d lost the beast?” Jaskier asked Geralt as he sat down at their table. Geralt said nothing in return and instead took a long drink out of the mug of thick and potent ale. Much like Yennefer, Jaskier was someone Geralt had never quite been able to shake no matter the job or the journey.
“You’re being more surly than normal. Was it that bad out there? It’s not like we can’t go back out to the forest to locate it.”
“I just don’t feel like talking”
Jaskier sighed and took a big bite of his bread. In his own way, Geralt appreciated Jaskier’s boundless good humor but he had stayed behind in town today and left Geralt to do the hard work. Hard work that hadn’t paid off and had only led to annoyance. Fighting a particularly nasty troll was always going to be rough business but this one was clever and the clever ones always wanted to make things hard work for witchers. They were rare though and this was the first one he’d seen in decades, so he felt a little rusty. A kikimora was one thing, this was another.
“Either way, if we can dispatch it tomorrow we can be on our way to Sodden or someplace nicer than these backwaters. I’m getting tired of the country fare and country women.”
“Have you made your way through all of them?”
Jaskier grinned and said nothing. Geralt sighed and said nothing back. Without Jaskier’s proselytization he supposed it would be harder to get at least semi-decent rooms and semi-decent fare but he too wanted to move on sooner rather than later. There was something in the air here that made him nervous and it wasn’t a troll or any other monstrous creature.
Or at least any non-human monstrous creature.
The door to the tavern burst open and the scent of lilac and gooseberries faintly floated in. Turning around, Jaskier’s face fell and even without her tell-tale perfume Geralt knew Yennefer had walked in. She was alone this time, no knight or merchant or whoever had hired her to complete a job or add status to his name. Even across a packed tavern her presence felt overwhelming to him. Geralt’s body felt like it was vibrating.
“Oh great, she’s here.” Jaskier complained in a low voice and he downed his ale quickly. “I don’t know how you can handle her.” He still hadn’t fully gotten over the whole djinn incident and Yennefer enjoyed being able to frighten Jaskier just a little with her power, doing mean little tricks with her magic to remind him who she was and what she could do. It wasn’t very kind but was a useful tactic to keep him always a little at arms length. Geralt couldn’t pretend to fully read Yennefer’s mind or know her feelings but he didn’t need to be able to in the case to see what her play was with Jaskier. It was easier to get her space with Geralt if Jaskier wanted to scramble away as quickly as possible and, to be fair, Geralt didn’t particularly mind.
From across the way, their eyes met and Yennefer began to make her way over. Jaskier’s back arched slightly as she approached but his obvious discomfort never bothered her, if she ever took notice of it. It wouldn’t have mattered much anyway since she never took her eyes off Geralt as she made her way through the crowded space to their table. With every step he felt something go up through his body and took all his training to maintain a sense of control. He hated this part of their meetings the most. Yennefer for her part never seemed to be particularly bothered. At least on the outside. Inside was anyone’s guess.
“So, we meet again.” She said as she took a seat across from Geralt. Jaskier had clammed up and focused on his food. Yennefer smiled and settled back into her chair, putting her mug on the table. Geralt grunted in response and looked to his left and out the window, watching her from the corner of his eye.
‘“What brings you here? There’s not much coin or anything important in this town.”
“I heard there was a monster and I’m in a mood to see one”.
Geralt snorted. A typical Yen answer.
“I take it you haven’t killed it yet?” There was a slight smirk on her face and a teasing tone to her question. She liked to get a little rise out of Geralt at the start but he couldn’t claim to be blameless on that front. Sometimes she was the one who had failed at her set upon task and Geralt was the one who got to make the opening move. He preferred those times.
“Did you get kicked out of the last town you were in? Run out after your spells didn’t come through like you promised?” Jaskier glared as he interjected, breaking the moment. Geralt turned and faced Yennefer, taking in her face and her presence. She was clearly not happy with Jaskier’s question given the scowl she sported and how quickly she took a drink from her mug to hide it from them. Geralt gave out a little laugh.
“For once Jaskier has gotten you, Yen.”
“Fuck you.” Yennefer finished her ale and slammed the empty mug on the table loud enough to attract the attention of everyone around them. She steadily scanned the area before loudly asking for some bar maid to bring her more ale. “For the whole fucking table!” she barked out as a skittish and pale young woman brought out her drink. If she was willing to pay, neither Jaskier or Geralt were going to stop her. Getting drunk on someone else’s money was always better than paying out your own in Jaskier’s well thought and well heard opinion and Geralt just didn’t feel like trying to argue with Yennefer about it. There was no point in it when she was in this kind of mood. The maid brought them their drinks and scurried away quickly, not wanting to attract more attention from Yennefer or anyone else at their table. With a wide grin Jaskier turned to Yennefer and raised his mug.
“To Yennefer of Vengerberg” he said and downed his drink. Yennefer, for her part, smiled back and met his toast with a simple nod. Geralt rolled his eyes and saw Yennefer looking at him out of the corner of her eye. She had her head turned to watch some fight that had broken out and in flickering candle light the shadows cast on her face reminded Geralt of that other woman he’d once met in a dim tavern. He turned away and drank, staring out the window as the night grew firmly dark and noises of the town died down.
Geralt had lost track of time when he stumbled out of the tavern, following Yennefer. Jaskier had wandered off somewhere as well, probably the bed of the plump wife of the village trader who was clearly bored by her much older husband. His fate was only minimally on Geralt’s mind anyway. Now that he and Yennefer had moved on to the second phase of their meeting all he could think about was her. Her skin, her lips, the way she would claw at his back when they fucked, and how she’d trace his scars after when they would lie next to each other. Every time they met, this was when he could feel himself becoming filled by Yennefer.
They reached the tent she had set up and he followed her inside. She never liked to stay in inn rooms when she was between nicer set ups. Yennefer also never extended an invitation to Geralt to come inside her rooms. It was never needed. They had gone through this song and dance many times since their first meeting and neither felt the need to comment on it. The tent was always meticulously decorated and fitted, a reflection of Yennefer’s time at court and the tastes she developed because of it. As always the large bed took the central focal point of the space, like a sinkhole pulling them both towards it as they played out their feelings.
“Here, drink this. It’s better than that bilge water you can get in the village”. Yennefer turned and handed Geralt a cup with fine wine. Most likely she’d pilfered it from a previous rich employer but there was no real harm in that. The rich can afford to lose a few bottles. He drank and felt warmth flow through his body.
“Did you do something to this?” he asked.
“Not this time. It’s just very rare and very good. A special occasion sort of wine.” She answered in a low voice, reaching for her own cup to drink. “It has been a long time, Geralt, and I have missed you.”
He felt a shiver go up his back and through his limbs. She moved around to his back and put her arms around his waist, pressing her face against him. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his body and he felt himself holding his breath. Yennefer was surprisingly gentle in these moments and it triggered some deep longing in Geralt and dangerous ideas. He felt himself start to slacken and lean in to her embrace. He brought his hands to hers and gently pulled away so they could be face to face again.
“It seems like you’ve gotten a new scar since the last time we met.” she said softly, her hand going underneath his shirt and softly feeling the raised skin along his ribs. “It hasn’t made it into any of the songs. Jaskier must be getting slow.”
“No, he hasn’t seen it”
“Oh, so I get to be the first one to see. I feel lucky.”
Yennefer tugged his shirt out of his pants and Geralt obligingly raised his arms and bent down so she could pull it off of him. She studied his bare torso intently, taking in all the marks and all the flaws like it was the first time she saw him instead of whatever number they were on.
“Do you like what you see?” He asked, his tone soft and joking. Geralt could feel himself growing aroused and he knew that Yennefer could tell. She loved to drag things out and to make him wait.
“Always.” she replied and took a step towards him. He reached out for her and quickly pulled her in for a kiss. With even quicker hands she undid his pants while he worked pulled her dress off her shoulders and she did the rest, sliding it off her with a practiced ease. Naked, the candle light cast shadows on their bodies and they looked at each other. Geralt took Yennefer in, once again committing her body to his memory. In the dark moments after they’d part he’d come back to these soft memories and relive them when he needed to feel something other than rage and pain and disappointment. He hoped that she did the same, that when she was in need of memories that brought something other than anger or pain she would think of him.
Their sex always felt like it was something close to filling a hunger that Geralt never realized he felt until they were joined together. Yennefer was on top of him, eyes closed and her hands roaming their bodies. She leaned over, pressing her forehead against his and opened her purple eyes to stare into his yellow one.
“How much have you missed me?” She whispered as she slowed her hips down to an agonizing pace, waiting for his answer. She moved slowly, grinding down almost painfully on Geralt before slowly raising herself up. He gave a low moan and pushed himself as far as he could into Yennefer, wanting to feel as much as possible and taking pleasure in her own low matching groan. He brought his hands to her hips, trying to encourage a faster pace but she resisted.
“Not until you answer me” she growled before kissing him and digging her nails into his shoulders. Geralt wasn’t sure how to answer her. He wanted to focus on her and on the physical sensation of their fucking, not on the emotional.
“I missed you deeply.” He finally groaned out and, for the moment, it seemed to have satisfied Yennefer. She allowed Geralt to roll her over, arching her back and wrapping her legs around him to encourage him to go deeper. There was no need for encouragement; as he looked down on her below him Geralt could feel himself getting close to release and wanted to make sure she was there as well. He was not a naive man, Geralt knew she had and would continue to have other men in her bed between their meetings but he always wanted to be one who came with her. He picked up his pace and reached between her legs, rubbing her clit the way he knew she liked it until they both came.
Spent, he rolled over and stared at the ceiling of the tent. Outside the wind had started blowing and the sound of distant wolves and much nearer livestock came in on the wind. He turned to his right and looked over at Yennefer, the dimming candlelight dancing on her sweaty naked skin. She was facing away from him and her breathing was deep, like she was asleep but Geralt knew she wasn’t. They had done this too many times for him to believe she’d fallen asleep so quickly. This too was part of their dance.
“Where are you going next?” he asked softly, reaching out to pull her close to him. He knew whatever answer she gave him was likely to be a lie but he felt the need to ask anyway.
“Sodden. I’m hoping for better luck there.”
He let out a small sigh. For politeness sake he wouldn’t question her but he felt sure that that wasn’t where she was truly going. If Yennefer didn’t want him to know he couldn’t force her to tell him. She had the right to her secrets.
“There’s no troll in the woods here either. The villagers mistook a hrikka for one.”
“Jaskier will be disappointed. No new song material for him.” Yennefer mumbled and Geralt felt her go slack in his arms as she fell asleep for real. He stayed still and took in the moment, watching her breath and taking in her scent. Closing his eyes, he committed as much from this meeting to his memory as he could. In the quiet moments when Yennefer slept he would take the time to reflect on the destiny that continuously brought them together but also forced them apart. Those times were his alone. Yennefer had her secrets and he had his. In the morning he would be in his bed at the inn with only her lingering scent and the scratch marks on his back as a reminder. Yennefer would inevitably be angry that he had snuck out and left her alone. She would track him down and, if he was lucky, she would stare him down while he packed up and moved on. If he wasn’t lucky she would yell at him in the street and call him names or if she was travelling with some client she would press herself on the man and shoot looks Geralt’s way. He could always feel her anger flow off her in those moments and he could always feel the sadness that was lurking in there. Anger that yet another person left her or let her down.
Then Geralt would go on his way to the next town or village or city and hope to catch a glimpse of Yennefer or hear news of a wandering witch wearing black and white and with purple eyes. The dance would start again.