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Every personal belonging Vesemir owned after more than a century on the path was spread out in his small and usually tidy room. Eskel, Geralt and Ciri barely fit into the room together, forcing two to sit on the bed while the other shuffled around. The window was open as was the door to try to let out the lingering familiar old scent. Lambert stood outside of the door with his arms tightly crossed and his back against the opposite wall, stubbornly refusing to take interest in the division of the fallen witcher’s property. He had insisted numerous times already that Vesemir was not his sire and he had no right to the equipment he left behind. Whatever possessions he had were rightly Eskel’s and Geralt’s.
Geralt smirked as he separated a parchment from the short pile on his lap, “This should have been with the registries. It’s my first contract. It was in the first batch I brought back during my first return for winter.”
Ciri took the contract and laughed, “Two silvers! How long ago was that?” They laughed as they continued to parse through the parchments, picking out old memories.
Lambert bit his teeth into his tongue, unable to feel the warmth that so easily overtook the others and readily resenting them for it. Eskel picked up a book and thumbed through it, “This one’s a bestiary, it’s got some notes from the old man in it. Lambert?”
“Dunno. Anything in there about the thing that killed Vesemir, and how to kill it before it kills me?” He replied.
The amusement left Geralt’s face and he exchanged a glance with Eskel. The latter shrugged, trying to assure in a casual gesture that this was fine. He returned to sorting things out into piles while Ciri and Geralt lingered over the sentimental items.
Ciri gasped as she reached into the chest beside the bed and lifted a sword out of loosely wrapped cloth. “My first sword!” She announced as she held it up, brandishing the shattered breaking point that had split it in two. She smiled sadly as she recounted, “I was so scared when I brought it to him. I thought he would be upset with what I’d done.” Geralt smiled, shaking his head and already knowing the story but patiently waiting to hear it told. “He was proud of me and said it was time to give me a stronger sword. A stronger sword for a stronger fighter.”
Eskel stepped into the doorway, interrupting the conflicted gaze Lambert was aiming towards the young woman lost in cherished memories. He leaned on his forearm in the doorway casually and asked, “Why don’t you come look again? See if there’s anything you want.”
“I only came to see what kind of shit he was hiding while looking down on us from his high horse. A stash of fissetec. That set of armour that went missing the one winter. A diary he kept during his monster fucking phase.” Lambert sneered with a mean grin. Eskel’s eyes narrowed and the other knew that he’d gone far enough at that point.
Eskel stepped out of the doorway, “Do you have enough to carry with you?”
“Yes.” Geralt answered. Ciri missed the exchange between Eskel and Lambert, and Geralt intentionally turned his head towards his collection to pretend he didn’t notice. He didn’t want to be a part of whatever happened next. “Let’s pick up what we have, Ciri. We’ll come back and look through whatever is left tomorrow.”
Lambert and Eskel held one another’s gaze, neither one willing to be the first to break, as Geralt and Ciri filled their arms and slipped out of the room and down the hall. The younger man puffed up his chest and scowled but otherwise remained silent, waiting for the other to speak first. The leader of the pack kept them both waiting until the sounds of footsteps in the hall faded, “Got anything else to say?”
“Want to grab the old man’s belt and really make him proud of you?” The younger man spat, barely getting the words out before Eskel’s hand closed around the back of his neck and pulled him into the room.
“Trousers down.” Eskel ordered as he shut the heavy door and placed a short sturdy stool between Lambert and the only exit. He barely had his leather trousers down past the curve of his rear when the stronger witcher pulled him down as he sat.
Eskel took in a deep breath before saying to himself as much as Lambert, “This isn’t easy for any of us. I can’t allow you to make it harder.” He rested one hand on the clothed back and one hand on the naked arse before him. “If you think about behaving this way tomorrow, I’ll tan your hide all over again and make you sit on this stool and watch while we sort through the rest of this stash.”
The first slap stung, and the second slap stung even more. Lambert grimaced through the next few slaps and closed his eyes tightly. Every part of him hurt and the sharp spanks only layered on more pain. He released a shuddering breath then whined, but he wanted the burning heat. He wanted Eskel to hit him until he didn't feel anything but the glowing pain. He reached for a distant memory of the catharsis that came after the pain but was unable to reach it, only falling further behind it with each subsequent blow to his backside.
He screwed his eyes shut even tighter, knowing that this was only the warm up and he had a long way to go. Every slap across his backside shook him to his core and pulled a whimper from him, but he knew he could endure it. He had suffered worse and survived.
But he didn't want this. The realization dawned on him with jarring clarity. The pain was wrenching at his heart and he didn't want any part of this. "Leather." Lambert gasped. He held his breath and for a moment they listened to the stunning silence, in a room with nothing to hear but each other's beating hearts.
Eskel's hand was frozen in place at the word. He watched as the pink glow across Lambert's ass cheeks began to fade as he asked, "Did I… hurt you?" He hesitated as he asked, unsure what he was even asking when he had set out with the goal of spanking him until he cried.
Lambert shuddered and shook his head, knowing the other would see that if he couldn't manage to force out a verbal answer. He breathed in deeply and sighed, "No."
"What's going on?"
"I don't want a spanking." He answered, burning with shame as he admitted something that sounded so weak and pathetic in his ears.
"Your behaviour said otherwise."
"I know. I'm sorry for that." Lambert answered with an embarrassed wince. "I was asking for it. If you have to tan my ass for that, it's fine. I can handle it." He poured his willingness out in front of Eskel, stubbornly refusing to shy away from anything and even going so far as to lift his hips and present his backside. With a shuddering breath he added his final explanation, "I just don't want it."
Eskel looked over the curve of Lambert’s rear where the pink hand prints had faded away. He was the leader of the guild now and had every right to carry out discipline. Lambert laid himself out, ready to receive it. He had even lifted his hips up, expecting it. But instead Eskel sighed and carefully lifted the younger witcher out of his lap.
As soon as his feet were planted on the ground Lambert pulled his trousers up into place, bristling with tension and discomfort despite being freed. Possibly even because he was freed.
Eskel stood up slowly and carefully, studying the other with a heavy gaze. "What do you need?"
"I need to stab something. Or scream." Lambert answered, head hanging. "I don’t know what to do, I’m just so…”
Angry . Eskel nodded in understanding, not needing the other to say it to already know.
“Sad.” Lambert finished and Eskel froze, suddenly seeing the other naked, truly naked, for the first time. Lambert pushed his scarred face into worn and calloused hands as he started to fall apart. He began to sit down, not as close to the bed as he likely thought and without hesitation Eskel swooped forward and captured the smaller man in his arms before he landed on his ass. He had only meant to catch him before he fell but the moment he had his arms around the other it became a hug. A fiercely strong and protective hug that pressed the length of their bodies together and completely enveloped one man within the other.
Lambert was motionless in the other’s hold until he realized he was being hugged and then he started to fight. He pushed Eskel’s chest and when he didn't budge he jerked against the arms confining him.
Eskel tightened his grip and Lambert raked his nails over the leather jerkin and he snarled before sinking his teeth into the material. Still, Eskel refused to release the other, holding him tighter as he struggled.
The salt in the air was stifling as moisture gathering in Lambert’s eyes became tears spilling down his cheeks. Lambert’s chest shuddered against Eskel’s as he struggled to breath through sobs bubbling up. Despite smelling his tears and listening to his cries plenty of times Eskel’s heart was seizing painfully now. Lambert was drowning in his sadness and he didn’t know how to save him from that.
He squeezed his arms tighter around Lambert until the witcher could no longer fight, until he could barely even breath. The small shudders wracking the smaller frame felt like earthquakes in Eskel’s arms but they were muted now, nearly forced out of him. Lambert managed a word, “Stop.”
“No.”
“Get off of me.” Lambert said like a demand.
“No.”
“Leave me alone.” He said like a plea.
“No.”
Lambert dropped his head onto Eskel’s shoulder in exhaustion. He stopped fighting, and stopped sobbing, even if it was only because he couldn’t breath. They stayed together like that for a long time, embraced in silence, until the tears stopped coming and Lambert’s breaths smoothed out. Eskel held him, even if it didn’t seem necessary anymore. He was unsure what would happen when he released the younger man.
“I’m done.” Lambert eventually sighed and he carefully opened his arms. He stepped away from the pack leader and wiped his hand over his cheeks then took a deep breath to fill his lungs.
Eskel felt like he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to see. The proud wolf in front of him never let people see him when he was hurt, and he was undoubtedly hurt now. Not just hurt in superficial ways that covered their bodies and faces with scars, hurt in the deeper way that made them weary and slower over time. In an act of mercy he tried to excuse himself and grant him his privacy, “I’ll go while you clean yourself up, then-”
“No, don’t go.” Lambert interrupted, finally meeting the other’s eyes.
“We can still talk.” He assured, “But are you sure you want to do that here?” Lambert didn’t look around the room at Vesemir’s old belongings. They were surrounded by the old man’s scent, steeped so deeply into everything he owned that it felt as if the oldest witcher were still standing beside them, watching as the new leader of the pack handled the often difficult wild wolf. They could only imagine what the old man would think knowing that Eskel didn’t use a belt on Lambert, this time he didn’t even follow through using his hand, instead he hugged him
Desperate to go, Eskel offered, “We’ll talk in your room.”
“Where are you going?” Lambert demanded.
“To your room. I’ll walk with you.” Eskel opened the door and waited for Lambert to step up beside him before setting the pace, walking side by side with the youngest witcher along an empty fortress hall that echoed with the sounds of their footsteps and finally calm breaths.