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He doesn’t know how the tradition started and frankly, he doesn’t care. It had started long before he began his training and would likely carry on after he was gone, but as it stood, every year the senior witchers who had left the Path to train the youth at Kaer Morhen would compete in a semi-drunken Gwent tournament to decide who gets to break in the boys about to set out on the Path.
More than a few times he’s thought about how stupid it was that they resorted to Gwent, a game of luck and chance depending on how your cards were dealt. He had long thought they should fight to see who gets bragging rights that year, but apparently, Gwent was fairer and gave all of them a chance to win, which was just the weaker of the lot admitting they wouldn’t stand a chance in hell in a fight with each other.
Go figure he supposed, but most years he didn’t care for the tournament and would purposefully lose early on and watch the rest of the evening unfold. It’s not that he wasn’t interested in the boys, well he wasn’t for the most part, instead he only really cared for the boys he had brought to Kaer Morhen himself, deciding that it was somewhat poetic that he be the one to bring them there and then send them on their way.
Often it meant that he went years or even decades without winning the tournament they set up, a mix of rarely leaving the keep to actually walk the path and claim the law of surprise mixed with the sheer amount of boys every year who wouldn’t make it past the trials meant that oftentimes the boys he brought didn’t make it to the end.
That was until the year Geralt was to finally leave the keep and walk the Path himself. He wasn’t delusional to think the competition this year would be easy, all the senior witchers were eager to covet Geralt, him being the only witcher to survive two rounds of mutations, but he planned to fight tooth and nail to get his chance with Geralt, and protect him from some of the more sadistic tendencies of the others.
He had the advantage that most of his peers thought him an easy target for the games, and sure his Gwent deck wasn’t perfect and could do with being updated, but they didn’t know about the stash of special cards he kept locked away for just this occasion. It was almost comical watching the other witcher’s faces as he won game after game after game until finally, he had won.
A number of them in a desperate plea to get another chance would call him a cheat, and Rennes had even flipped the table in a rage near the end, but the result was the same, he had won and that year he would be the one to take care of the witchers.
There are five boys who would be leaving that year, whilst his obvious desire had been Geralt and by extension Eskel, he couldn’t shirk his duty to the other three. He didn’t do anything grand or new, he simply invited the boys to his room one after the other and almost as a lesson taught them how to fuck, how to seek pleasure in someone else until they shuddered through their release and he sent them off back to their rooms.
He’d set the next night to be just for Eskel, whilst it was true he hadn’t been the one to bring the boy to Kaer Morhen, his similarity to Geralt was striking and he would have been a fool not to have seen how close the boys were to each other. He had been tempted to bring them both in together and let them seek comfort together whilst he took them each in turn, but he had different plans for both of them, so it was he waited until he heard the knock at his door and was met with the sight of Eskel shuffling nervously behind it.
The boy stepped into the room without saying a word and stood there awkwardly in the middle of the room, not sure what to do next, so he finally takes pity on the boy and tells him to strip.
Eskel is almost methodical in the way he disrobes, folding his clothes and putting them to the side before kneeling in front of him, head bowed. The sight is enough to make him moan and he can see Eskel’s face go a little red when he cards a hand through his hair and praise him for being a good boy.
He almost wants to ruin the boy then and there, but it’s not what he had planned, not what Eskel deserved, so instead he guides Eskel to follow him to his chair and after taking a seat makes the boy settle between his spread knees, head resting on his thigh whilst he cards his hand through soft, brown hair.
They stay like that for a moment and he can practically feel the tension bleed out of the boy with every stroke of his hand. It’s when he sees Eskel struggle to keep his eyes open that he guides his soft cock to the boy’s mouth, not to suck but just hold, and he groans again when Eskel does it without question, tongue flicking a little at the head of his cock as if to taste him before sinking down the rest of the way and once again resting his head against his thigh.
He picked up one of the bestiary’s then and chose a random page to read off of, not that he wanted Eskel to pay attention but he had lectured the boy and had hoped some familiarity would ease the last bit of tension he still held.
Sure enough, the boy was a puddle between his legs, making little moans here and there that vibrate around his cock and he’s sure Eskel isn’t even aware he’s making them. He carries on reading for another couple of pages before he put the book down and gently tugged Eskel off of his hardening cock, telling him what a good boy he was as he helped him to stand and guide him towards the bed.
Gently, he helped Eskel settle onto his front, a pillow under his head and another under his hips that gave the most delicious curve to his back and he found that he couldn’t help but lean forward to taste the skin with a brief kiss to the small of his back. He’s not surprised when he feels Eskel tense again, or when he flinched at every touch and press of his mouth as he moved across the boy’s body, but he persisted in his task of worshipping the body under him and soon enough Eskel is moving to meet his touch and letting out little breathless gasps with every kiss to his skin.
He lingers at Eskel’s shoulders and back until the boy’s mind is clouded with pleasure before slowly making his way down to his ass, pressing a kiss to each cheek before gently spreading them to drag his tongue from the boy’s balls to his hole. The effect is immediate and Eskel shudders beneath him with a moan and he can’t help but do it again and again.
He’s done this before to whore’s and partners he’s found on the Path but never to one of the boys he took to bed, not even to those he viewed as his, but Eskel was special, one of the few to retain his kindness and a certain openness that most lost after going through the trials. He’s intent on making this as nice and sweet for Eskel as he could because he knew life on the path wouldn’t be easy for him. Sure he was skilled with a sword and even more so with his signs, but it wasn’t the monsters and the scars he was worried about, it would be the men and women he was supposed to protect that would hurt him the most, so he wanted to give Eskel this, something precious he can think back on with fondness before he’s sent out to suffer the world’s problems.
It’s too easy to wring out the moans from Eskel as he first teases at the boy’s rim with his tongue before pushing it inside and he feels Eskel shudder as he begins to fuck his tongue into him. It was when he began to press a finger alongside his tongue, just teasing at the rim at first and suddenly Eskel is coming with a shout and he keeps up his ministrations until Eskel is moving away from him with a small whine at which he finally pulls away to stroke his hands down the boys back instead.
It not long after, when the high of his orgasm has worn off that Eskel begins to worry, stuttering out multiple sorrys for not asking, for not waiting to come, and he’s quick to lean over the boy, his chest pressing him into the bed, hoping it’s a comforting weight as he kisses along the nape of his neck as his hand’s stroke the boy’s sides, all the while telling Eskel how good he’s been, how there’s no punishment here and he can come whenever he wants.
It takes a little while but eventually Eskel is relaxing under him again, and so when he's kissing a path down the boy’s back he picks up the oil on the nightstand and slicks his fingers. He takes his time opening Eskel, having him come for a second time on two fingers and again on four as they rub against his prostate and it’s when Eskel’s begging for more, pleading into his pillow that he finally pushes his cock in on one long thrust.
Soon he’s setting a slow pace, a simple roll of the hips to allow Eskel to feel him and slowly be coaxed to come at how full he feels with his cock rubbing along his prostate. He’s happy to wring out orgasm after orgasm from the boy until he’s a whimpering mess, overstimulated and stuck between begging to stop and holding his hand like a vice, pleading for more.
A couple of times he hears the boy murmur Geralt’s name but he doesn’t complain, he can’t really when he has Eskel flushed red and desperate under him as he works another orgasm out of him.
It’s in the early hours of the morning when they finally finish, he came once having pulled out and stripped his cock as he kneeled over Eskel until his come painted the boy’s back, and even then he pushed his cock back to continue gently fucking the boy whilst one hand began rubbing his come into the skin of Eskel's back, marking him as his, as one of his pups. It’s when Eskel starts whimpering, tears threatening to fall down his face that he picks up his pace and after a handful of thrusts and a hand around Eskels cock he has the boy come a final time, only a few drops of come adding to the mess underneath him, but it’s the cry of ‘Vesemir’ that finally has him come inside the boy, simply rolling his hips in small movements to ride out his pleasure until he finally pulls out.
He was prepared for this of course and grabs the cloth he’d left in the water bowl on his bedside drawer and with a quick blast of igni has it warm enough so he doesn’t shock the boy as he cleans up the come staining his front and back. Eskel is virtually asleep at this point, letting him move his limbs about to clean him up before he presses a glass of water to the boy’s lips and with his help has him finish the drink and take several bites of food. Finally, he pulls Eskel out of the wet spot left under him and against his chest instead, stroking his hand through his hair until finally, the boy falls asleep.
It’s just before dawn when Eskel wakes again, eyes glazed and groggy as he slowly comes back to himself and he’s quick to reassure the boy before asking him if he wanted to stay with him until he was ready or if he wanted to go back to Geralt. He’s not offended when he chose Geralt, sure that Eskel would get more comfort from his best friend than his mentor so he simply helps the boy stand, wraps a cloak around him, and picking up his folded clothes guides him back to his rooms.
He says nothing when he sees Eskel immediately climb into bed with Geralt, or at the way Geralt loops his arm around Eskel’s waist, pulling him closer so he can bury his nose into his hair.
Later that morning when he sees Geralt sneak out of the hall at breakfast with two plates piled high with food in his hand, he doesn’t stop him. Instead, he just hoped that if destiny did exist, it would be kind enough to keep the two of them together.
~~~~
It’s two nights later that he summons Geralt to his room, and where the other boys had all been nervous trepidation Geralt just strides in, face blank before standing in the middle of the room, hands behind his back and head held high.
It was true the boy was cocky ever since he knew he could best his peers with a sword (except Eskel of course), a fact which had only worsened after the second trial where the boy had gotten a colder edge to him, one which made him think he was untouchable.
So it’s not too much of a surprise that when he ordered Geralt to strip, he didn’t move, just stood there still as if he was above it all.
“Strip, or every time I have to tell you after gets you 10 beatings” Even with the darker edge that always managed to scare some of the hardier witchers, still Geralt remained motionless although there was a tension in his jaw as if he was challenging his threat and he simply growled “Strip…that’s 10”
Suddenly Geralt’s moving and pulling off his clothes, he doesn’t fully know why, the boy never backed down from a challenge that easily before but it may just the setting, the inevitability of what was going to happen in this room that had him listen, he didn’t want to think too much on it.
As soon as he was naked Geralt resumed his position standing in the room and he allowed himself to take a long look at the boy, a smug smile at his mouth when he saw Geralt squirm just the smallest amount under his gaze. Having looked his fill he guided Geralt to the bed, but before he let the boy climb on, he first bent him over the edge, hand on his neck to hold him down whilst his hand palmed at the ass in front of him whilst Geralt just gave him a confused look.
“You wouldn’t listen so you’ll take your 10 beatings now”
“I’m sorry”
“It’s not enough to say you’re sorry, you have to show it as well” He gently stroked a hand across Geralt's ass, trying not to chuckle when he felt the muscle twitch under him, clearly expecting a harder blow “You’ve grown unruly wolf, you need to learn when to back down just as much as when you need to attack”
Geralt just whimpered and after another moment finally went lax under him and he gave a pleased hum at the submission, stroking his hand across the boys ass one last time before he pulled it back to smack him.
He could’ve used his full strength, he should’ve, but this was a lesson just as much as a punishment, one of the last he’d teach his wolf and he didn’t want pain to be the only thing he remembered about it. He didn’t use his full strength but he used enough strength to leave Geralt’s skin red and hot where he’d hit it, which made the boy tense and cry out with each new hit until finally he was done, the boy’s ass bright red and looked as if it was already beginning to bruise.
He stroked at the skin and when he heard the pained gasp from Geralt picked up the healing salve to rub into the abused skin and slowly he felt Geralt relax into the bedding. When he was done he ordered Geralt onto his hands and knees on the bed whilst he disrobed, but when he turned to face him instead he saw the boy on the back, legs splayed wide, still submissive but a contradiction to his order.
“Do you have a problem following commands wolf?”
Despite having practically whimpered whilst getting his ass beat not a minute earlier, Geralt just lay back, hands behind his head as he stretched out on the bed “No”
He snorted even as he folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow at the boy “No what”
“No, sir” Geralt said it in a way to antagonize him, to mock him, but he wouldn’t let it get a rise out of him like it did some of the other senior witchers.
“You’re a brat, been allowed to go unchecked, well that stops tonight” He got up on the bed and put his hands on the boy’s waist before flipping him over and lifting his hips so his head was on the mattress and his ass in the air. When he felt Geralt try to lift his head and get up on his hands he put a hand on his neck to keep him held down no matter how much the boy struggled to get up, to get some sort of control back.
He doesn’t know why as wolf witchers most seemed to develop some sense of pack, about the order and hierarchy that comes with it, and Geralt was no excuse to that and apparently thought himself at the top, or at least higher than him, but he intended to keep the boy face down as long as was needed before he learned his lesson.
Hand still on his neck he picked up the vial of oil and through some miracle managed to open it and slick his fingers, dropping the glass to let the rest of its contents spill onto the sheets as he pushed one of his fingers past Geralt’s rim. He felt the boy freeze under him for a moment but as he began to move the digit Geralt began to renew his struggle, not to get away but just to do something, to get out of his hold so he wasn’t in the position of a bitch posturing for a mate.
He knew he had to move fast so after stretching the boy on two fingers pulled out to slick up his cock before pressing in. Once he’d pushed into the base, both of them were left panting as Geralt went lax below him.
Once he’s given the boy a chance to adjust he pulls out about halfway before thrusting back in again and when all he gets is a choked off moan muffled by a pillow he begins to pound into the boy below him as if he were a bitch in heat, and he may as well have been by the way he was mewling and growling with each thrust into him, any shame at being made to submit long gone as he tried to fuck back on his cock with every thrust.
It was somewhat heady having Geralt under him, a boy with unmatched potential, practically fucking himself back on his cock, with each movement getting only more eager to have his dick back in him again so it was no surprise to him that he didn’t last long, Geralt letting out a guttural groan when he felt come paint his insides but still clenched around him to try and coax every drop of come from him that he could, Geralt intent to use him to get himself over the finish line before he went soft, and yet the boy never strayed a hand to his own cock.
He was nowhere near done with the boy and he was silently grateful for witcher stamina as he pulled out and told Geralt to move onto his back. Geralt did so without a word and even grabbed the back of his knees to hold himself open, neck bared as he waited for the next move.
He stroked his dick at the sight, Geralt watching with eager eyes as he got hard again, and letting out a breath as if in relief when he finally sank into him again. Whilst Geralt was a lot more pliable this time around, he curled a hand around the boy’s throat just to be sure, squeezing every now and then just to feel the boy shake beneath him, as he felt himself approach a second orgasm he gripped around Geralt’s throat and felt his breath catch and his glaze the longer he was without air until finally, he told the boy to come, and so on the next thrust Geralt convulsed under him as he shouted out his release for the whole keep to hear, his hole clenching so tight around him that he’s forced over the edge as well.
After that, he’s somewhat more confident that Geralt’s learned his place, at least with him, and the boy is all eager energy with the intent to prove himself, so he’s more than happy to lay on his back and let Geralt ride him long into the night.
It’s hard to tell exactly how long they went for, only that Geralt sure was giving his stamina a run for his money as the boy’s hips just kept moving, even after Geralt came, still, he moved, simply grinding back into his lap, but he kept going until he was ready to get up on his knees to start riding his cock again.
A few times when Geralt had to take a break, his head thrown back and a hand on his dick whilst he put his feet flat on the mattress to take over and fuck relentlessly into the boy, he heard him whisper Eskel’s name before seeming to catch himself and stare down as if waiting for a punishment that wouldn’t come.
The only time he took serious action was when Geralt got a bit too eager, when the younger witcher would try to grab his hands and pin them above his head as if he were the one in charge. When putting a hand on Geralt’s throat no longer worked he pulled the boy off of his cock and flipped them over so Geralt was once again ass up below him, giving a couple of lighter, teasing smacks to his now pink ass until the boy came, after which he would let Geralt ride him again.
They carried on like this until the light of the rising sun filtered past the curtains and with a final fuck that had Geralt on all fours with him mounted behind him the boy let out a hoarse cry that would have woken those in the keep if they’d even managed to get any sleep with Geralt’s overly enthusiastic shouts and moans for more and harder and faster.
When they were done he made sure to clean him and make him drink a glass of water but Geralt refused to eat. As with Eskel, he gave the boy the offer to stay with him but it was no surprise when he chose to join Eskel instead. He watched Geralt change back into his clothes and with a nod and a 'Thank you sir’ he left with only the barest sign of a limp in his step.
To say that he was tired was an understatement, whilst he had worn out Geralt, the boy had worn him out as well and it almost felt like he was the one who had been fucked all night. That morning he had a slight limp as he walked to breakfast, earning a couple of pats on the back from his peers and more than a few jealous stares from his seniors and he can’t help but feel smug about it.
~~~~
It another two decades before one of his boys is set to leave Kaer Morhen to walk the Path.
Lambert, a spitfire of a child who he had gotten from the law of surprise through a chance encounter on a supply run for the keep. He remembered how the boy had screamed and struggled the whole journey up to the keep and cussed him and everything witcher related to this day.
There’s less of them now, mages and witchers alike being lost to riots and pogroms against their kind and the secrets slowly being lost with them, but even now they keep up with tradition. There are only two other boys who made it in Lambert’s year, but the boy’s poor attitude is enough to deter most of the senior witchers from actually wanting to win this year.
He’s well aware of just what a demon Lambert could be, but despite all the vitriol the boy had aimed at him, he was still one of his and he was still intent to win. The other witchers may as well have handed him the title but he’s not going to complain.
As always that first night he invites the two other boys to his chambers and has them leave relaxed and well sated. He knew Lambert would be more of a challenge, the youth well aware of the tradition but would likely try to do anything possible to get out of it thinking there was some sort of shame to being fucked, but that’s not how he wants tonight to go.
Instead, he makes Lambert an offer, a fight in the courtyard for all to see. If Lambert won, then he would leave him be to brag about being the only witcher in several centuries to not be fucked by an elder, if he lost then he would be fucked as was the tradition. The boy eagerly agreed to it.
In the ring the only rule was no use of their signs, all other bets were off and at the shout of Varin, it began.
Lambert was quick to start the assault, swinging and striking his sword to force him back onto the defense as he tried to parry and block. The boy was good and he was fast, on one block of an overhead swing he could feel his hand shake at the impact, but Lambert’s greatest strength was also his weakest. His emotion.
It’s true the trials stripped their emotions to the bare bone but they still had moments of joy or despair in their lives, and in Lambert’s case fury. He goes somewhat easy on the boy so as not to wound his pride too much, letting him keep attacking in an attempt to exploit the moment he faulted, a moment that wouldn’t come. Once Lambert had his eyes set on something it was his sole focus, so on one swing when Lambert had exposed his flank he struck again and again until with one kick knocked the sword out of Lambert’s hand.
Lambert didn’t give up, he didn’t want to hurt the boy of course but he still gave the odd swing he knew Lambert would be able to dodge before he threw his sword to the side in order to have a fairer fight. Entertainment over he didn’t let this last long, letting out the occasional grunt when Lambert got a hit in at his side but it could have only been a couple of minutes before he had Lambert pinned below him, face in the dirt and cussing something fierce.
Through it all he gave Lambert a choice to be fucked then and there in front of everybody or to behave where they could do so behind closed doors, the boy chose the latter.
He kept a firm hand on the back of the boy’s neck, as if it were a collar and chain, as they walked to his room, Lambert having long fallen silent.
When they’re in the room he doesn’t remove his hand as he ordered the boy to strip, and it’s with minimal mumbling he does so. He pulled Lambert onto the bed and similar to what he did with Geralt, held his head down on the mattress with his ass up, although Lambert didn’t fight nearly as much.
A few times the younger witcher would push and tug in his hold as if testing the limits, but each time he would just lay across Lambert’s back, a heavy weight he couldn’t move against before he stopped squirming and allowed him to continue. He was quick but thorough in his prep, stretching the boy on three fingers before he’s pressing the head of his cock into Lambert’s hole which only got tighter as he tensed at the intrusion.
He pushed forward slowly, little thrusts Lambert could get used to as he gradually eased his way in until he was fully seated. There was a tension in the boy that would probably be there most of the night, but Lambert was silent as he began to move, letting out one or two grunts when he picked up his pace and a curse when he first hit his prostate but otherwise Lambert let him work.
It was when he put a hand on Lambert’s cock and stroked in time with his thrusts that had the boy coming around him, barely able to hold off his own release as he felt Lambert clench almost unbearably tight around him, but with a few deep breaths he staved off the edge and carefully pulled out.
Lambert had relaxed a little after that and so it was easier to put him on his back, the boy too dazed to realize what was going on until he had one wrist tied up to the bedpost and a leg about to be tied up as well. He tried to resist then, of course he would, but a firm hand around his neck and a growl from deep in his throat had the boy settle down with a huff and allowed him to tie up the rest of his limbs.
It’s likely Lambert thinks he intends to torture him at this point, and he does, but not in the way he expects, not in the way some of the other senior witchers have threatened to do when Lambert caused nothing but chaos and havoc.
No, instead he settled himself between the boy’s spread legs and pressed two fingers into his hole and simply held them there, didn’t move them or touch Lambert’s prostate, just waited until Lambert began to squirm against the covers to try and get some sort of stimulation, a frown on his face.
“The fuck are you doing old man” In retaliation to the comment, with his free hand he slapped Lambert’s half hard cock, smirking as he watched it twitch at the treatment even as Lambert cried out in a mix of shock and pain “What the fuck”
This time he flicked the head of Lambert's cock and watched as Lambert hissed and let out a drawn out swear
“Watch yourself with me boy, if you want to come then you have to beg” Lambert took that as a challenge and seemed intent to keep his mouth shut and body still, but he wasn’t about to give the boy an easy pass.
He slapped the boy’s cock and watched as it grew harder beneath him and slapped it again, the only other reaction from Lambert being a sharp inhale, but otherwise nothing. He changed tactic then, and instead began to tug at one of the boy’s nipples whilst he lowered his head to suck the tip of his dick into his mouth, and he managed to break through that wall just a little when Lambert gave a small moan.
He kept up his ministrations until Lambert was almost sweating below him, lip between his teeth to try and keep his nonchalance whilst he slowly worked him over with deft fingers and broad strokes of his tongue. It was now probably an hour after they’d entered the room and he felt Lambert was close, felt his balls tighten, and his breath quicken but he was quick to wrap strong fingers around the base of his dick to stop him from reaching his peak.
“I said beg, Lambert”
Still, the boy remained silent and so he kept up his slow torture until he knew Lambert was just on the edge before he pulled away completely, impressed when Lambert only let a small whine escape him at the loss. He waited a minute or so until the boy looked at him again and making his movements obvious started his task again of working over his body, from biting at his nipples until they were red to pressing the nail of his thumb against the leaking slit of the boy’s dick.
As before, he continued his efforts until Lambert was teetering on the edge, a couple of strokes of his fist would be enough to get him to come, and again he commanded him to beg, and again Lambert refused too, so instead he pushed the witcher to the very edge before pulling him back from it just as abruptly.
He worked over the boy for hours, whether that was mouthing at the head of his dick or pressing half his hand into the boy’s hole until he couldn’t contain himself anymore, moans and cries leaving his mouth unbidden, but still, he didn’t beg.
Eventually, he added a blindfold and then started to tease Lambert with the cool metal of his knife against his hot skin, dragging the point of the weapon down his body, teasing at his balls before dragging it up his cock until all Lambert could do was shudder and gasp at the feel of it. He edged the boy for hours and it was a little after midnight when with a voice hoarse from shouting, Lambert finally begged.
“Vesemir, please…”
“Please what” He brushed the tips of four fingers in the boy’s hole against his prostate and felt him shudder as his body became more and more overwhelmed the longer he went without release.
“Fucking shit, let me come”
“You can ask nicer than that”
“You old bastard” He had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes, of course even now desperate and on edge, Lambert would still be cussing him out “Please let me come, please-”
“That’s good, I was wondering how long you’d last” He chuckled as he pulled his fingers out of Lambert’s hole and once again slicked his cock before pressing in, Lambert’s face stuck somewhere between a scowl and bliss when he was finally pressed all the way in “See, there’s no shame in asking for help”
Now Lambert just scoffed even as he tried to move his hips and get him to move despite their limited movement “Course you’d turn this into another fucking lesson”
“You’d be wise to remember it” He didn’t wait for an answer then and began fucking the boy in earnest, his own pleasure had simmered under the surface for hours as he edged Lambert over and over and now that they were at the finish line they were both racing to get there.
In the end, he didn’t even need to touch Lambert’s cock, just fucked into him with abandon, forgetting himself for a moment and just enjoying the feeling of Lambert squeezing tight around his cock as if he was trying to torture him now. Maybe he was, not that it mattered as just as soon as he began fucking the boy, Lambert began to pull at his bindings, head thrashing from side to side before coming over himself with a cry to wake the dead.
The sight of the boy’s release and the tight, wet heat of his hole that began to clench around him quickly sent him over as well, riding out the aftershocks of perhaps one of the most intense orgasms of his life, not that he’d ever say that, he didn’t want Lambert to hold that information over his head.
Breathing heavily he carefully pulled out and watched as his come began to leak out of Lambert’s swollen rim, he went to push the small trickle of come back into his hole but at the sharp hiss and plea for no more from Lambert he stopped and instead began to untie him from his bed.
Even now that he was free Lambert just lay there spread eagle and eyes drooping, which was fine by him as it made rubbing salve over the boy’s wrists and ankles easier and he got no complaint when he made Lambert take a drink of water.
He was surprised when Lambert made no move to leave, his first thought would have had Lambert all but running from the room in an act to pretend this never happened. Instead, he just moved to one side of the bed to make space for him and turned away to face the wall.
He knew the boy was struggling, it was tough to be that vulnerable with someone, especially for the first time and even more so considering it was Lambert and so he just guided the witcher towards the middle of the bed and between his legs. The fact that he didn’t even put up a struggle told volumes that he needed something to ground himself with and so he offered his softened dick to put in the boy’s mouth.
There was about a second of hesitation before Lambert took him in his mouth and went to lay his head against his hip. Slowly he felt the boy relax against him and begin to fall asleep and he couldn’t help but card his hand through dark hair before he too fell asleep, sure that despite taking comfort now, come morning Lambert would be gone, but if that’s what the boy needed he wouldn’t stop him.
~~~
It’s 70 years later and it’s only him and his pups left. All the others are long dead, leaving the walls of Kaer Morhen haunted and quiet.
His boys have made their own way on the Path, made friends and allies and enemies and sought their own comfort amongst others, yet every winter they returned with heads bowed low and shoulders weary, and in their own time, they would come to him, let him look after them if only for a moment.
They were his wolves and he would die before letting anything happen to them.