Work Text:
Oxenfurt was the ideal place to find a willing body. After all, the university town was throbbing with young life and passionate, creative minds. There was no shortage of taverns, entertainment, beauty, or luxury. A perfect place to seduce and be seduced.
Cirilla was on fine display, decked out in leather trousers that accentuated her ass and a red silk blouse that she left loosely tied to show off her cleavage. She left her ash blonde hair half down tonight with a pair of braids pulling strands away from her face, gathered in the back of her head in a small bun. Chilled from the crisp cold of the spring evening, her perky nipples were visible under the soft fabric of her shirt. Her fur-lined cloak billowed behind her as she followed her husband into the tavern, grasping his hand.
Geralt hummed and took in the crowd of the tavern more quickly than any human could, and decided that he was content to stay. With a squeeze to her hand he released his wife and approached the bar to order a beer for himself and wine for the lady. Ciri slipped off her cloak and wandered off into the crowd to find somewhere to sit and observe.
And there was so much to look at. So many young, excited faces. Friends greeting each other in varying states of drunkenness. Flirtatious glances cast across the room. Wandering hands slipping around waists and squeezing curves. Cirilla breathed deeply, settling her nerves. Somewhere in this tavern she would find the right person. Someone who could give her the greatest gift of her life. She brushed her fingers against her belly and smiled to herself. Tonight was the night.
Geralt approached and sat next to her, placing the wine glass in her hand. She tapped her goblet against his tankard. “Cheers,” she said with a flushed grin, taking a long draw of her wine. She snuggled closer to Geralt and his furnace-like warmth. A few men who had been eyeing her up while she was sitting alone averted their gaze, some with clear disappointment to see she was spoken for. Ciri grinned to herself smugly. Yes, she was very much taken and happy to be had by her Witcher.
“Hmm.” Geralt took a gulp of beer. He wiped the foam off his upper lip and looked around. “Anyone promising?” There were lots of young men in the tavern but he knew Ciri had very strict guidelines. Personally, Geralt had no preference as to what their donor looked like. He would love Ciri’s child as much as he loved her, appearances be damned. But Ciri was determined to have her way.
Cirilla was pondering the question. She touched Geralt’s arm and gestured at a group of academics across the room. “That one,” she murmured. “The blond. He has a nice build… handsome,” she mused, taking another sip of her wine. “What do you think?”
Geralt narrowed his eyes, judging the young man she had described. He was handsome looking, yes. A good height. Strong build. Decent muscle definition. Fair complexion. Pale blond hair, almost white in the fading sunlight streaming through the window behind him. Light eyes that could’ve been green or blue. Everything that Ciri wanted.
“Hmm.” Geralt agreed. He trailed his hand down Ciri’s arm, lacing his fingers between hers. Ciri squeezed his hand, tapping her thumb against his wedding ring. Their eyes met. Ciri blushed. Geralt leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, a low growl in his throat.
“Go, get him,” Geralt encouraged her. He kissed her again, nibbling at her lower lip. She moaned as he released her and turned his attention back to his ale. She wiped the saliva off her lips as she stood up, taking her goblet with her.
Her heart tapped an excited cadence as she approached the young man, letting her hips swing and her breasts bounce with her steps. The man looked up from his group of friends and caught her eye briefly before looking her up and down. Ciri licked her bottom lip suggestively as she walked past him, intentionally bumping shoulders and then glancing back at him in a flirtatious pretense of an apology.
He watched her go, admiring her ass and the curve of her waist. Across the bar Geralt was watching him and could find no fault in the man’s admiration of his wife’s body. The Witcher observed as the man sat, half-listening to his friends talking and half-watching Ciri walk towards the bar. Geralt could almost count down in his head how long it would take the young man to get up. Eight….seven...six ...
The man made it to five before standing up abruptly, moving with an agile grace through the crowd towards Ciri. He leaned against the bar, intercepting her there with a charming smile and coin purse at the ready.
“May I buy you a drink, miss? I have to say you are the most beautiful maiden I’ve seen tonight,” the man said smoothly. He was a city boy, clean and good-smelling - no doubt a well bred youth destined for a life of bureaucracy and noble comforts. But beyond that Ciri noticed in his sky blue eyes a curiosity and a hunger not so peculiar for university students, a thirst for life experiences that classes simply could not provide.
“How kind you are,” Ciri replied with a wink. “I’m having wine tonight. And besides ale, what are you having?” She reached up a hand and brushed her fingers over his chest, smoothing down the collar of his shirt. The man bit his lip at her touch. He raised his hand very tentatively and slid it across her waist, resting on her hip when she didn’t shy from his touch. “Mmm,” he mumbled, taking a half step closer to her. “I wouldn’t mind something sweet to finish off the night.”
Ciri smiled and her cheeks flushed red. Even though she was far from innocent, the habit of blushing had never left her. It was a tell-tale sign of her interest and arousal, something she hadn’t needed for years of being with Geralt and his mutant sense of smell… Geralt often knew she was in the mood even before she knew it herself. She was grateful for the blushing now, for she wanted no mistaking her interest towards this young man.
The man leaned in and captured her lips, kissing her slowly and meticulously as if he was an explorer charting new territory. Ciri moaned against his mouth, feeling a thrill knowing that Geralt was watching her from afar. She stepped forward and pressed her body against the man, letting him grope her breasts through her thin silk shirt. The man groaned and reached behind her to squeeze her ass, pressing her hips against his. She could feel him straining half-hard beneath his trousers and grinned to herself knowing that he would be well endowed when fully erect.
“Not playing hard to get at all,” the man gasped as they separated. He looked Ciri up and down hungrily, shaking his head. “What’s the catch? You’re too beautiful, too willing. Tell me, there has to be something.”
Ciri laughed. Her hands had been grasped behind the man’s neck as they made out and she pulled them back slowly, holding up her ring to display to him. The man’s eyes widened and he released her ass immediately, looking around. “Oh gods, is this the part where your husband punches me into a pulp? No thank you, it’s been pleasant but-“
Ciri held onto his arms steadily, squeezing him. “No! It’s not like that. Yes, I am married. But this isn’t what you think.”
The man raised his eyebrows in disbelief. A strand of curly blonde hair had fallen onto his forehead and he smoothed it back with graceful fingers. “Really? Point him out to me, then. I’d love to have a conversation with this man who willingly lets his wife flirt and kiss strangers in a tavern.”
Ciri giggled and turned the man so he could have a clear view of Geralt sitting in the far corner, brooding as usual with the candlelight casting a menacing glow about him.
The young man startled and drew back. “No, alright, no. I’ve cuckolded old, fat, balding bastards because their wives came to me begging for a hard cock. But I’ll not even pet the wife of that beast. His arm is bigger than my head for gods sake!”
Ciri pouted. “Not even if he asked you to?” She turned back towards the bar and her goblet of wine, purposefully letting her ass brush against the man’s hip. “Not even if he paid you?”
The man looked back at her in shock. He furrowed his brow. “You’re saying that man - that man - with the swords and the scars and menacing face is going to pay ME to bed his wife?”
“Why don’t you come with me and talk to him if you’re so unconvinced?” Ciri asked teasingly, twirling a lock of her long blonde hair around her finger. “Would it be so terrible to make good coin fucking me tonight?”
The man cursed and ran his hand through his short blond curls again. He was aroused and willing, but his face read of fear. Ciri found that to be no surprise at all. “Come, he won’t harm you,” she assured him with a feather light kiss to his lips. She took the young man’s hand in hers and led him back to the table where Geralt sat watching them curiously.
“My love,” Ciri greeted Geralt as they sat down. She reached out for Geralt’s hand and the Witcher held on to her steadily, protectively. “The young man is interested but he’s worried you’ll…what? Crush his head? Break his legs?”
The young man nodded nervously, straightening the cuffs of his shirt. Geralt huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes. “Boy,” Geralt started, meeting the young man’s eyes and examining him. He leaned in and spoke gently. “My wife has not led you on. I want her to be fucked, and I’ll even pay you for it.”
The student shook his head in disbelief, wide-eyed. “Why?” he implored. He watched as something softened in the Witcher’s face, a look of longing and helplessness.
“We want a child,” Geralt said bluntly. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking down at his mostly empty mug. He breathed out a sigh. There was no use hiding the reason why they needed this young man. “I… I cannot give her one.”
The man inhaled, raising his eyebrows. “... Oh. I see. And you’ll pay me to do this?”
Geralt nodded. He pulled out a coin purse and let it drop on the table, the weight of the coins clinking as it made contact. “Providing you can prove yourself to be virile, of course.”
“I have three brothers and a bastard son of my own. How’s that?” the young man propositioned, eyeing up the coin purse and Ciri’s breasts in turn. Ciri and Geralt exchanged a glance. Ciri nodded earnestly. Her green eyes spoke for her, two beautiful wells of hope and desire. Geralt hmm’d and slid the coin purse closer to the young man.
“What do you say?” Geralt asked. Ciri’s hand squeezed his, and he could feel the longing in her touch. She had wanted a child for so long, and they were finally ready. Yennefer had carefully tracked her cycle for months, concocted fertility potions for her, and given her instructions on what days of the month she could get pregnant. Today was one of the days. All they needed was this final piece, the right man to say yes and provide his seed.
The young man rubbed his chin, smiling sheepishly. Finally, he shrugged and drew out his answer, “I mean... I’d be a selfish fool to say no, wouldn’t I?”
Ciri’s heart skipped a beat. She beamed at him. “Yes?”
“Yes,” the man nodded and tossed back the remainder of his drink. He smoothed back his hair again and laughed nervously. “Well, this is just about the strangest night of my life so far.”
Ciri reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Shall we go make it even stranger? We have more wine in our room. No reason why we can’t enjoy ourselves before...” She let her hand drift up, dipping her fingers under the collar of his shirt and running her nails over the back of his neck. He shivered and bit his lip.
“Lead the way, then,” the man said, his voice deeper with arousal. Geralt got up first, taking Ciri’s hand and escorting her on his arm. The young man followed a few paces behind them out of the bar and then hustled to catch up with them. The night air was cool and crisp, the street lamps casting a warm glow over the stone steps they climbed to reach the inn.
Once inside Geralt stopped to speak with the innkeeper and gestured at Ciri not to wait for him. Ciri took the young man’s hand and led him to their room while Geralt made arrangements. The man raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise upon entering the couple’s chambers. They had clearly spared no expense for their stay in Oxenfurt, picking the largest and most lavishly furnished room the inn could offer. It featured a four-posted bed large enough for three bodies, a seating area with armchairs and a chaise lounge, a large tub beside the fireplace, and a finely crafted chest of drawers on which a few bottles of liquor and wine sat asking to be sampled. The young man startled from his observation as he felt movement behind him. A couple of servants had filed in behind them to light the candelabras and start a fire. He tried not to notice their curious glances in his direction just as much as he tried to hide his surprise at the luxurious room.
Politely ignoring the young man gaping at their finery, Ciri unclasped her cloak and laid it over the back of a plush armchair. Another servant had arrived with a carafe of wine, glasses, freshly baked bread and a plate of fruit and cheese, and set them down on the sitting table next to Ciri.
“Gods,” the student finally remarked as he accepted a goblet of wine from the servant. “I feel as though I should be paying you for this extravagance.”
Ciri giggled and sat down on the armchair to unlace her boots. “Don’t be silly. Relax, make yourself at home. We won’t start just yet.”
The man cleared his throat and sat down in the chair opposite her, sipping his wine and watching as the servants worked on filling the tub. They added bath salts, oil, and dried flowers, creating a warm and sensual aroma that drifted through the room. The young man breathed deeply, trying to relax as the woman had asked. He pursed his lips, humming in thought. “I don’t know your name and I’m to bed you?” he questioned softly. Ciri looked up at him. Her cheeks were flushed pink and the wine she was sipping was certainly not making her blushing habit easier.
“Ciri,” she replied. “I’m Ciri, and my husband is Geralt.”
“My pleasure, Ciri. I’m Nels,” the student responded in turn with a smile.
Ciri grinned at him. “Well met, Nels. Now you can have your way with me and sleep easy knowing you were polite about it.” Ciri laughed, and Nels ducked his head to hide his embarrassed chuckle.
“Too beautiful, too willing, and now too clever. I’m in over my head, Ciri,” the young man said teasingly and reached for the bread and cheese. Might as well fortify himself for the activities ahead of him. Too much wine and not enough energy would not suit for getting a woman pregnant.
The door opened and Geralt entered the room holding something behind his back. Ciri smiled at him from her seat and raised an eyebrow in question. He leaned down and kissed her slowly, tenderly. As he pulled back he moved his hand from his back to reveal an expertly crafted bouquet of roses and wildflowers in hues of red, pink, white, and just a dash of contrasting yellow.
“Oh, Geralt,” Ciri breathed, accepting them from him and blushing. She dipped her nose into the soft petals and inhaled their fragrance. She sighed in delight and looked up at her husband. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
Geralt smiled and leaned in for another kiss. “Never as beautiful as you, my love,” he murmured as they parted. Ciri grinned at him, excitement fluttering in her chest. Geralt kissed her once more before straightening up and removing his swords, cloak, and boots.
The servants had finished filling the bathtub and departed the room, leaving a few fluffy towels and robes on the dresser for them. Ciri hummed happily and took a last, long sip of her wine before setting it down on the table along with her flowers. She stood up and reached for Nels.
“Fancy a soak?” she asked, mischievously pulling on the man’s shirt ties to loosen them. Nels cleared his throat and nodded, watching Ciri’s nimble fingers make quick work of his ties as he rose to his feet. He let her strip him, noticing her curiosity about his body as if she were looking for defects. But her expression didn’t change from contentment, except for when she pulled down his trousers. Her eyes widened and she blushed deeply.
“Geralt,” she called out, as she returned to removing the man’s clothes. “You have nothing to worry about if it’s a boy.”
Geralt chuckled and walked over to them, casting a quick look up and down the young man’s naked body. “Hmm. Indeed.”
It was Nels’ turn to blush, but his embarrassment didn’t last long. Ciri was stripping herself now, and he breathed out a moan as she revealed her bare breasts and soft, pale skin in the candlelight. She reached out and took his hand, leading him towards the bath. Geralt settled down in Ciri’s arm chair and lounged, watching them intently and sipping on his wine.
Ciri groaned in pleasure as she sunk into the tub, Nels climbing in and settling down opposite her. They sat and relaxed for a few minutes in silence, listening to the fire crackling in the hearth. It was peaceful and comforting, resting together with their limbs loosely tangled. Almost too peaceful. Nels felt his eyes drifting shut and he cupped water in his hands and splashed his face, rubbing intently. He blinked open his eyes to see Ciri grinning at him, shoulders shaking as if she was suppressing a laugh.
“What, making sure this isn’t a dream?” Ciri teased. She slid her hand along his bare leg, her touch curious and gentle. He was much leaner than Geralt, not as muscular. Not a single scar on him. Different, but not displeasing.
The man drew in a breath as her hand approached his inner thigh, shifting himself uncomfortably. Ciri smiled knowingly and raised her hand to grasp his half-hard cock, squeezing and rubbing his length as it quickly filled out under her touch. He moaned and let his head fall back against the edge of the tub, fucking up into Ciri’s fist and whining when she released her hand.
“Oh, Geralt... I think it’s time,” Ciri whispered. She smoothed her hands over the man’s chest and leaned into his touch when he did the same to her. Nels caressed her breasts and dipped his head down to kiss and suck on her nipples.
“I have..mmm.. a weakness,” he said between kisses, “for perfect breasts. Gods, mm.” He moaned and squeezed her tits together, sitting back to admire them glistening wet in the firelight. “If you weren’t trying to get pregnant I’d be happy to simply fuck these all night.”
Ciri grinned, enjoying his attention. His touches were gentle but self-assured. She could tell he knew his way around a woman’s body and she shivered at the thought of having him inside her. “Speaking of fucking...” she trailed off, winking at him. He inhaled sharply and nodded, standing up.
“Right, let’s,” Nels agreed. He was going to help Ciri out of the bath but he was beaten to the chase by Geralt, who handed him a towel before wrapping one around his wife and picking her up. Geralt carried her in his arms to the bed and laid her down gently in the center of it. He unwrapped the towel and placed kisses along her body as he dried her off, lavishing attention on her sweet spots with his mouth. He trailed further south and spread one thigh to the side, nuzzling into the softness of her inner thigh and breathing in her scent. His kisses wandered inwards until he met his target, dipping his tongue between her legs and licking at the slippery wetness there. Ciri mewled in pleasure and surrendered to his mouth, closing her eyes as he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked on her. Her heart was beating wildly, excited for this night she’d waited so long for. Geralt could sense all the emotions rushing through her simply from her pulse, her breathing pattern, the way her scent of arousal sweetened and deepened as he expertly worked his mouth over her. He slipped two fingers inside her and curled them, letting her rock her hips against him and find her completion as she cried out his name. Finally, Geralt was satisfied that she was ready and pulled away from the pussy he could’ve spent all night worshipping. He climbed on the bed and settled himself down on his side next to Ciri, laying a hand over her heart. She held onto his hand, lacing their fingers together. Their lips met, kissing lazily, sharing the taste of Ciri’s arousal between their tongues. “Please,” she whispered to Geralt as they parted. He hmm’d and pressed their foreheads together, cupping Ciri’s cheek in his hand.
Nels had watched them as he dried himself off slowly, not wanting to interrupt the sweet moment the couple was having. At least, at first. When it became clear that Geralt wanted his wife to himself for a few minutes, Nels hung back respectfully. He hovered by the table, picking up his wine to drink as he curiously watched Ciri being eaten out. The woman was so beautiful, and it was a marvel to watch her lose herself in the throes of pleasure. His heart beat faster knowing that he would be the next one to make her moan. He finished his wine and licked his lips hungrily as Ciri orgasmed. He was ready for his turn. He wanted to make her come like that.
After what felt like a short eternity Geralt raised his head and nodded to Nels, who dropped his towel and crawled onto the bed eagerly. He knelt between Ciri’s legs and spread both thighs open, groaning at finally seeing her up close. He reached and stroked his hand against her pussy, letting his fingers sink inside her to feel her heat and wetness for himself. Ciri sighed at his touch and squirmed under him, wrapping a leg behind his back and nudging him forward.
“I’m ready,” she whispered to nobody in particular. She turned her head towards her husband and Geralt kissed her deeply, murmuring “I love you” against her lips. She reached out for Nels and guided his cock to penetrate her. She and Nels moaned together as he seated himself inch by inch inside her, her tight heat stretching around him.
“Mmm,” Ciri moaned and arched against him, trying to find the right angle to please herself. “He’s big, Geralt. Gods, fuck,” she whined, scrunching up her face as the young man pushed a little too deep, his cock stretching her in places that Geralt’s didn’t. Nels was almost as wide but longer, and Ciri was not expecting him to hit the limit of her depth so easily.
“Gentle with her,” Geralt warned with a growl. Nels froze then slowed down, carefully rocking into Ciri at a leisurely pace and depth. Ciri’s face relaxed and she moaned as the young man’s strokes found her sweet spot and continued to aim true upon discovery.
“He’s alright,” Ciri breathed, rolling her hips up to meet Nels’. “I’m just used to your cock, daddy.”
“I know, baby,” Geralt murmured, turning her head and kissing her passionately. He ran his fingers through her hair, cradling her head in his hand protectively. The young man was breathing heavily as he worked into Ciri’s heat, eyes closed and head thrown back. “I’m close,” he groaned, gripping Ciri’s ass and pumping a little faster. Ciri moaned in excitement and clamped down on his cock, letting herself be rocked towards her own orgasm. Nels was groaning in pleasure, abdominal muscles clenching as he approached his own edge. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good. Gods! I’m gonna-“
His breathing stuttered along with his thrusts and he pressed deep inside her, cock throbbing as he released his cum. Ciri cried out in ecstasy, holding onto his hips and keeping him inside her as long as he could bear it. She gasped in exhilaration, grinning triumphantly at Nels. The young man smiled and leaned down to kiss her, just once, then relinquished her lips to her husband. Geralt kissed her possessively, a low growl in his throat as he released her lips and dipped down to bite her neck hard enough to mark her.
Ciri whimpered as Nels slowly pulled out of her and Geralt unlatched his teeth. Geralt reached above his head for a pillow and lifted Ciri’s legs, placing it under her hips. He held her thighs together, legs drawn up to her belly. “To keep the seed inside her,” Geralt grunted to Nels who was watching in confusion. The man shrugged, resting against the post of the bed.
“I didn’t do any of that and I still managed to get a girl pregnant,” he laughed and stroked back the blond curls on his head. Ciri smiled hopefully and reached her hand up to Geralt’s face.
“Hear that, love? We could be pregnant any moment.” Ciri was positively beaming with joy, pulling Geralt towards her for a kiss. “I love you, Geralt. Gods, to give you a son…” she sighed wistfully, closing her eyes in contentment. She placed a hand over her belly, dreaming of feeling life grow inside her. Geralt hummed and nestled his head in the crook of Ciri’s shoulder, breathing in his love’s scent and wondering if he would know by scenting her when her body started to change.
Nels cleared his throat, wanting to catch the lovebirds before they both fell asleep in their blissful daze. “I, um, I can go again in a few minutes if you’d like more.”
Ciri’s eyes flew open and she raised her head to look at him, nodding enthusiastically. “The more, the better. As many times as you can,” she added, holding out a hand to him. Nels scooted forward on the bed, reclining next to her. He slipped an arm around her waist and held her loosely, not daring to overstep his bounds. But Geralt was lost in a different world, cuddling and holding his wife in his arms protectively like their mission would fail if he let go.
Ciri nudged towards Nels, nuzzling at his chin. The young man met her lips and kissed her lazily, dipping his tongue in her mouth and tasting her. He sucked on her bottom lip as she pulled away.
“Thank you,” she whispered earnestly, squeezing his shoulder. Nels smiled at her. She was glowing with joy and she didn’t even know if she was pregnant yet. The young man sighed, feeling a fire burning in him again. He was suddenly overcome with a desire to breed this woman, to mate with her like an animal… For that was all they wanted from him. How freeing it was to fuck without a worry about conception. How good it felt to be buried deep in a woman and cum without a second thought. His cock grew hard thinking of giving her more, and he pressed against her and moaned.
Ciri breathed deeply, reaching down and moving Geralt’s arm so she could spread her legs. The young man climbed on top of her and plunged his cock inside her, moaning with abandon. She was wet with her own arousal and with his cum, and fucking her was like... fuck, like breathing fresh air, like diving into a pool on a hot summer’s day. Perfect. Bliss.
His eyes drifted shut and he rocked against her slow and steady, listening to her happy moans as his guide. His hand wandered over her belly thinking of her swelling with a baby, up to her breasts that would grow heavy with milk. He grunted and sped up, chasing the feeling of being a stud, a cum donor for this beautiful woman and her scary husband. She was moaning louder and her thighs shook around his hips as she spasmed in orgasm. Nels followed after her, growling in satisfaction as her clenching heat milked him dry. He panted as he came down, pushing up Ciri’s legs like before as he pulled out, holding her thighs closed to prevent his cum spilling out. Geralt took over, scooping her into his arms and holding her securely. Nels collapsed on the bed beside them, breathing evenly. He was tired now, ready to sleep.
His eyes were heavy and he closed them. He was vaguely aware of the married couple whispering sweet nothings to each other and making out next to him. Sleep washed over him, deep and peaceful.
And soon, too soon, he was waking with the morning sun. He grunted, trying to remember what day it was and if he had a class at the University to attend. He looked beside him and smiled at the sight of Ciri sleeping peacefully, her hands clasped over her belly.
“Saturday,” Geralt mumbled with his eyes still closed, as if he could read Nels’ mind. The young man snorted.
“Well, that answers my question…” he muttered, settling back onto his pillow and sighing. He palmed absentmindedly at his cock laying hard and heavy against his thigh. It was a natural reaction, not even something he noticed he was doing… but Geralt noticed.
“Hmm.” The Witcher’s rumbling voice brought Nels back to reality. “Do you want to have her again?”
Nels raised his head curiously, peering over Ciri at Geralt. Geralt shrugged. “I mean, you’re hard… she wants to get pregnant…” Geralt raised his hands in a gesture like he was weighing options, and Nels laughed.
“Look, I won’t say no. Your wife is incredible.” Nels took a moment to admire her beauty in the soft morning light. “But, she’s also asleep…”
“Hmm.” Geralt rose onto his elbows and pushed the covers off of him and his wife. He slipped his arms around Ciri, gently repositioning her and spreading her thighs. She sighed and stretched, but kept her eyes closed. At their home he often took her early in the morning when she was still half asleep; she had grown accustomed to trusting his touch and taking his cock at odd hours of the day.
“Ciri,” Geralt whispered in her ear. He stroked a few errant hairs away from her forehead. “The boy wants to give you more cum before he leaves. Is that alright?”
Ciri stirred and sighed, reaching up an arm to hold Geralt’s head against hers. “Yes daddy,” she mumbled sleepily, nuzzling into her husband’s warm shoulder and keeping her eyes closed. Geralt looked up at Nels and nodded permission.
That was all Nels needed. He licked his hand, generously soaking his fingers in saliva and rubbing them against Ciri’s pussy to make sure she was wet enough to take him. But she was already wet, and his offering was useless. Satisfied, he gripped his cock and sank right away into her tight heat, groaning in relief. Gods, she was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Nels moaned as he worked into her, slow and steady, trying not to wake her from her sweet slumber. Geralt was watching over her carefully, protectively, making sure Nels didn’t do anything to harm her. But the young man was gentle and generous, and Geralt found he had nothing to worry about. Nels found the right angle to bring her to pleasure and rolled against her, listening to her breathing and moans intensify until she began trembling. She gasped against Geralt’s shoulder as her orgasm washed over her, and Nels enjoyed watching her take her pleasure. He smoothed his hands over her belly and breasts, wondering if she was already bearing his child and feeling the blissful relief of not caring if she did.
Geralt was kissing her as she came down from her orgasm, and Nels took the moment of distraction to focus on himself and his needs. He rocked faster, deeper, chasing that feeling of being a stud, growling as he spilled deep inside her. Geralt pulled her knees up to her chest and held her there as Nels withdrew his spent cock. The young man lounged against the post of the bed again, catching his breath.
“You know Professor Jaskier? The bard?” Geralt inquired, snuggling his wife against him. Ciri’s breathing had evened out and she lay still against Geralt, already falling back into a deep sleep.
“Yes… yes, of course,” Nels acquiesced, stroking back his blond curls. “I’m in the school of history but yes, I know him. Colorful fellow, plays the lute, looks like he’s forty even though he’s turning sixty this year?”
Geralt nodded. “Next spring… we’ll be in Oxenfurt for his birthday celebration. Should you wish to see us.”
The offer hung in the air. Not a guarantee, or a promise. Just an offer, as effervescent as smoke from an extinguished candle. Nels nodded humbly. “Thank you,” he murmured. He stood up and dressed quickly. He checked that he had everything and he paused at the door, looking back at Geralt and the wife slumbering peacefully in his arms.
“Good luck,” he wished sincerely, offering Geralt a smile. Geralt nodded, smiling back. The Witcher gathered his wife more tightly in his arms, letting her rest. Only time would tell what this night meant, if it had changed their lives forever… Geralt breathed deeply and kissed Ciri’s forehead. For her sake, he hoped it had.
———
The next spring came quickly, separated by a mild winter and a city full of youth ready to celebrate the warm weather once more. Nels heard of Master Jaskier’s birthday celebration and didn’t think twice of it at first. But his memory came back to him the more he thought of it, and of how Geralt instructed him on how to find them. He was curious… how couldn’t he be? This was the only way to find out if his efforts had been successful. The couple had left no mailing address, no other way for him to find them.
There was to be a public celebration on campus in the form of a luncheon on the grounds outside of the music building. Nels figured he was stupid not to attend - a free meal? What university student could pass that up? He packed up his notebooks into his satchel and made his way across campus to the music building. He was more curious than anything, and his efforts did not disappoint.
At the head of a long makeshift table sat Professor Jaskier entertaining guests, students, and travelers with charm and ease. Nels looked around and settled his gaze on a familiar strong figure, a head of white hair next to a woman with ash blonde hair. Crowded close next to them was a woman with black curly hair that he did not recognize. She was clearly very familiar not only with the couple but with Jaskier himself, who she greeted with a chaste kiss on the lips.
Nels circled around the table to get a better view of them. His breath caught in his throat, even watching from afar. It was no difficult thing to observe a squirming bundle in Ciri’s arms, tiny little arms and hands reaching out for her and only settling when they grasped her hair and the collar of her shirt.
Ciri had been filling a plate of food from the table and sighed when the baby started wailing for her hungrily. She set down her plate and unlaced her shirt, revealing a breast and maneuvering the baby towards it to feed. Geralt, behind her, grumbled something and wrapped his arms around her to hold the baby against her breast. “Eat,” he instructed firmly, kissing her cheek. Ciri slowly untangled herself from the baby’s grip, making sure Geralt had control of him before turning back to her plate. She ate ravenously, barely maintaining conversation with the black haired woman and Master Jaskier as she inhaled her meal. Behind her Geralt was cuddled up comfortably, watching lovingly over her shoulder as he held his baby against Ciri’s breast to feed. When the baby dropped off Ciri’s nipple Geralt covered up his wife’s breast and walked away with the baby to burp him.
Geralt stopped a few paces away under the shade of a large oak tree and settled the baby upright on his chest, patting and rubbing the baby’s back. Nels watched as Geralt’s eyes closed in elation, nuzzling his face against the little head laying on his shoulder and breathing in his scent. The baby sported fuzzy pale blonde curls on his head and Geralt stroked them sweetly as the baby yawned and settled in for a nap.
There was no doubt at all in Nels’ mind that the baby was his, and yet watching Geralt set him at ease. That big, strong, scary man cared for the baby more gently than he could have ever imagined. He knew the mother was nothing to worry about. These parents loved the baby more than he was capable of, and that made his heart feel free.
He didn’t approach them that day. He was satisfied to watch from a distance. But three years later in his final term on campus he had a mind to try again at the Professor’s birthday luncheon, just out of curiosity.
And there they were, two white-blonde heads and the black curls ever present next to them. No longer restricted to their arms, a rambunctious toddler with curly ash blonde hair ran about on the lawn beside them. He crashed into Jaskier’s legs, wrapping his arms around the bard like an octopus attached to his prey. Jaskier picked up the little boy and spun him around in the air joyfully, tossing him up once for good measure and catching him with practiced ease. Jaskier leaned down and pressed a kiss to the boy’s head before letting him run free again. The toddler had a belt with a small fake wooden sword strapped to it, which he drew out with clumsy fury and used to attack his father’s boots. Geralt hollered in fake agony and collapsed dramatically on the lawn next to him. The toddler boy crawled on top of Geralt's chest and shook him by the collar.
“Papa! Wake up! I was playing,” the boy cried, rattling his tiny fists against Geralt’s chest. After a long moment Geralt picked up his head and grinned, wrapping his arms around the child and wrestling him to the lawn.
“I know, Ves,” Geralt admonished, smothering his child in kisses before sitting up on his heels and waving at the toddler to attack him again. The little boy growled and fumbled to pick up his play sword. He charged at Geralt and the Witcher let him swing attacks at his belly and chest, feigning wounds when the play sword made contact with him and gently ‘defending’ himself against his assailant using his forearm as a shield. Nels watched them play at this game for a long time, until he was satisfied with what he’d seen and was ready to leave.
A gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him as he walked away. Nels turned to look at the black haired woman.
“You,” Yennefer murmured gently. “You must be the father.”
Nels froze. He had no reason to say no, but he also didn’t know this woman well enough to say yes. So he said nothing. The woman pursed her lips in amusement and continued. “He’s the most wonderful boy anyone could ask for,” she informed him. “Healthy, strong, loving, intelligent. A beautiful, wonderful child.” The sorceress drew in a deep breath, studying Nels’ face. “Thank you. Thank you for our little one. He is our life. Our everything. We love him so much.”
Nels smiled at that. A weight lifted off his heart and mind seeing the honesty in the woman’s face. She had no reason to lie to him, and the child was clearly well loved and cherished.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “For loving little-?”
“Vesemir,” Yen answered his unspoken question. “Named after Geralt’s late father - a great man of the finest character.”
Nels nodded, pleased with her reply. “I’m honored. I am sure he will live up to the name, with parents and guardians like you caring for him.”
Yennefer winked at him and looked back at her little family. Geralt was crouched next to little Ves, who was holding a caterpillar in his hand and trying to feed a leaf to it. The boy listened in awe as his father explained the life cycle of a butterfly, pointing out one of the caterpillar’s older siblings fluttering in the flower bed beyond them. The boy took his father’s hand and led him over to the flower bed to place the caterpillar among the plants. Yen smiled fondly and turned back to the man, only to find him gone. In the distance, a head of blond curls turned back to wave at her before disappearing behind the corner of the music building.
“Hm,” Yen mused to herself and turned to rejoin her family on the lawn. Jaskier approached her with a slice of cake in his hand and she cheekily stole the fork out of his hand on his way to his mouth, swallowing down his bite of dessert. Jaskier acted horrified but before he could rebuke Yen little Ves ran over and collided with his legs again, demanding a bite of the birthday boy’s cake.
“Ves! Manners!” Ciri chided as she joined them, easing onto the lawn and motioning for her son to share her slice of cake. Ves released Jaskier and sprinted to his mother’s lap, settling down in her arms and messily accepting a mouthful of cake. Geralt walked over and they all sat on the lawn together next to Ciri and Ves.
“What did he say, Yen?” Ciri whispered curiously, protecting her cake as Ves wiggled out of her lap to attack Geralt. Yen smiled to herself, wishing she had something more exciting than the truth to tell her girl.
She settled on a half-truth, slipping an arm around Ciri and squeezing her. “He said he expects Vesemir to live up to his namesake. And he’s glad you love your gift.”
Ciri giggled and butted her head against Yennefer’s shoulder playfully. “Of course we do.” She looked up as Ves threw his arms around Geralt’s neck and kissed his cheek. Geralt grinned like he’d just felt the first sunshine after winter. Ciri sighed happily as Yen brushed her lips against her forehead. “We love our gift so much.”