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"But I think you would like him."
The male voice came from darkness, surrounded by nothingness and gloom.
It could have been spoken by no one, by nothing, in a basement of an abandoned building, a defunct brothel in the seedy part of town, in the middle of the night and dead of winter, where no living soul dared to venture.
Living souls, there were not.
Beings, there were.
"I really, really think…"
The baritone said softly, gently, into a neck, murmured into curled hair…
"You would like him, indeed."
He might have been alone in the gloom. But he was not, for there was a reply to his thought.
A sigh.
Female. Contralto. Restless.
"You've spoken about him all evening," she pouted, "And not a word about me."
"I presumed you had tired of the charade and dance of courtship," he chuckled, "Of the incessant compliments, uttered by men at the verge of orgasm, at which point they would utter any foolishness."
He gazed upon her and bowed his head.
"But I'm not a man," he smiled. "I don't need to say things of that nature. We understand each other, after all. And…"
She watched him carefully as he spoke.
"Unlike the men, you know well that I don't come here to seek my own satisfaction. I only come here to please you."
"Then please me."
He shrugged.
"Vanity."
"Truth."
Another shrug. And obedience.
"What lays before me is beauty, pure beauty," he sighed. "Something like you captures the imagination, owns it. Succubus. All of mankind's dreams belong to you. And mankind's desires. I wish only to please you, because your own being is to please. You are their pleasure. Just as I…"
He smiled. Fully. Sadly.
"Just as I am their fear."
There was silence for a moment.
The reply was a smile, a lowering of the gorgeous eyelashes, a spreading of the lips, behind which leonine teeth glistened.
"Then, together we are everything. The full psyche. Complete me, then. Be one with me, vampire."
And they were one. Yet again.
Many nights were shared like this.
***
They explored each other's minds, vast and deep, feeling the other's presence and being in their entirety.
Equal in nature, like two raging storms, melding, combining, mixing and pouring down upon the other, with flashes of lightning and howling of wind.
Entanglement, twisting, contorting.
They felt each other. He, pleasure. Her, fear. They trembled in delight, knowing their psychic opposite, knowing their shared origin.
For although they explored each other's bodies, they already knew one another. They had always known each other.
They were Darkness and Chaos reunited in form.
***
They became restless. After some time, they released each other.
"That was nice. You're very fun."
"You give me a thrill," she shivered. "I've never been so squeamish in all my life… Everything in you bites and gnashes and tears apart. I've never known such terror."
A modest smile.
"That's you," she sighed. "Now, won't you tell me what I'm like?"
"Custard."
"What?"
"It's a human foodstuff. A dessert. You make it with egg, milk, sugar…"
"I know what custard is, silly. Why the comparison?"
"You're pleasant, rich, and smooth. And delicious."
"Ha!"
***
"Have I told you already? You're very enjoyable."
"Thank you," he nodded. "I try my best."
"You do well. Better than the men…"
"I accept the compliment. But you cannot blame them. They're… they're only human…"
"Mmm."
"Might I admit something?"
"What is it?"
"I envy you."
"Why?"
"They love you. Those men. It must be nice to be so loved by people."
"They don't love me. They only think they love me."
"They embrace you. They seek you. They find you beautiful. As is your only truth."
"They're desperate."
"I suppose so," he sighed. "Desperate… and young."
She snorted.
"And just how young do you think those vineyard owners are?"
"Oh, some… forty, fifty years. As I said, young."
"Fifty is not young for a man! It's old!"
"Is it?" His eyes widened. "Half done, half to go. Pardon me for the comparison, but you wouldn't call a man with half his blood left empty. Why call a man with half his life left old?"
"You haven't known enough men," she smiled. "You haven't been with enough of them to know the… trifles of their age."
"I can't fathom that you're unable to remedy simple erectile dysfunction. Why, even a young succubus can…"
"I meant," she swished her tail annoyedly, "Emotional trifles. Men at that age are married, they don't want just any woman. They think of their wives constantly and without let up. You know, I don't buy it that all men are infidelous at heart. I can see their true hearts. Their desires. They don't want a phantom, an apparition, a demon…"
She pursed her lips.
"They want the women they love. Widowers want their dead. Others want the beauties that rejected them, broke their hearts. Some only want their woman… their very own wife, to love them as she did when they first wed. They don't want me. For them, I'm only another. They see them all in me."
"It's impossible not to. You are them. You are that… desire."
"Did you," she asked quietly, "also see someone in me? A woman?"
He was silent.
"Naturally."
"Might I ask who?"
"You already know."
"But you never loved her."
"I know."
"And now?"
"Now, I see you."
"Is that better?"
"Much better."
***
"Related back to our conversation about mortal age, I remembered something," he smiled. "Or rather, someone. He's fifty-five years old, with all of the concerns of a fifty-five year old man… hm… or only some of them, some he doesn't have…"
An impatient swish of the tail.
"Are you speaking about this killer again, in my presence?"
He cleared his throat.
"Yes."
"It's not enough for you to come into my den constantly smelling of him, of his spit and orgasm… you must also talk about him, you have this compulsion to do so. It's incessant."
"I suppose I do. I'm sorry, I've annoyed you."
"A little. But I…"
She looked at him.
"I know you can't help it. I can see how you feel… about him."
"I suppose that, as well."
She sighed deeply. More like a groan.
"I'll give you a chance. One chance. So, then. Persuade me, vampire. Who is this witcher? Tell me what he looks like."
A smile.
"Oh, he's just adorable."
"Adorable?"
"Yes! You should see him bare his teeth. He's like a puppydog that's convinced it's a wolf… Grrr… grrr! How fearsome I am! Ha!!… Ha, ha, ha…"
The succubus did not share the vampire's laugh.
"A puppydog?"
"Mmm, and he's eager like a puppydog, too… Yeees…"
A face of disapproval.
"Come, now. He's marvellous. Simply marvellous. They carved a man from marble, kissed him on the… with life, and set him out into the world. Excellent craftsmanship."
"Is that all?"
"No. He's six feet and two inches tall and one-hundred and sixty-one and one-quarter pounds. Muscular, lean. Like a dancer. A fantastic spine. His fascia is just… mmm! And his blood pumps, like…"
He made enthusiastic, slow clenching motions with his hands, perhaps simulating a human artery pumping at a quarter of a normal man's speed.
"His fascia? His blood? Tell me something I care about."
"You don't… Oh, alright. Well, you won't be disappointed. He's, oh, just… yummy. White hair, cat's eyes, naturally, from the herbal infusions he was steeped in. Yes, fifty-five years of age, although he ages slower, owing to being a witcher. Physically, that is. Mmm, his face is slashed with wrinkles… and scars… yes… Simultaneously, he has the constitution of a twenty year-old. Ha, much better than a twenty year-old. They made him to equal… us. They made him like us. Isn't that fascinating? Lovely?"
"They made him to kill us."
"Not us. Only threats."
"Only threats? And what are we? Mice with wings?"
"I repeat, he only kills threats to humans. To humanity."
"We are threats to humanity. Regis, you are a threat to humanity."
Silence.
"I am not."
"Yes, you are. You're a vampire. It's your nature."
"I resent that. I am… I am who I am. I control my actions. I am in control of my own decisions."
"Fine," she grimaced with distaste, "You've renounced being a threat to people, and by your own control, decided to become a personal slut for a witcher instead…"
He snorted.
"The pot is calling the kettle black. What would you make of it, then, that I've come here nearly every evening this week? And of yourself?"
"Your coming to me is natural and right. And I only sleep with regular men," she insisted. "Not murderers, that reek of death and killing… Is that a vampire thing? You're a very gruesome bunch."
"No," he said after a while. "We don't like witchers anymore than you do. And… I admit the scent of blood… it makes me a little nauseous. Luckily, he doesn't have so much of it on his hands. Human blood, I mean."
She grimaced with revulsion.
"I know what blood he smells of. I can still smell him on you. It's like you waded through the slops of a butchery."
"I washed thoroughly."
"Wash again, next time."
"I will. Natanis?"
"Yes?"
"I'm telling you about him because I want… I'd like for you…"
"Don't say it again."
"I'd like for you to meet him. For you both to meet."
The succubus was about to vehemently disagree, but Regis interrupted her.
"You'll immediately realize he's not so bad. I concede, he smells off, but when you get close to him, it mixes with his… oh, the scent of a man… a delicious man, ha, ha…"
He was smiling very broadly.
"I swear, he has this effect. You just want to eat him up! Rip his intestines out, crack his ribcage to get at the prettiness inside, see how richly and powerfully his heart pumps. All of that sort of thing. Of course, oh, I wouldn't. I can't. You know, you can't do that with a human, they're much too fragile, even if they are so cute you almost can't resist. But if you see him, when you see him, you'll want to taste him, I know it. And you haven't seen his soul! It's just… oh. I want you to look at him. He's valorous, honorable, a hero… I didn't see him either, at first. Then he showed me… he showed me who he really was. Geralt… Oh… Witcher…"
"You needn't relive your memories. I can already see them all."
"Oh, yes. Of course. Then you already know."
"I know what you let him do to you. You let him… use you. Your form."
The only response was a pleasant smile, a sigh, and a nod.
"Don't remember it. I can tell how it makes you feel… Ugh."
"It's nothing you haven't done to me. Or I to you…"
"It's everything we do, but basic and carnal. A man can't love with the mind, he can only do so with his body. In his case, a body perverted and changed… mutated… Ugh. Spet."
She shook her head.
"He can't accept you into his mind like I do you, or you I. He can only lie there and take it. Nor can he penetrate with his mind, for it's inert… The only thing that works about him is his body. It's a mindless creature, a witcher. An animal, like a dog! And he, ugh… He fucked you like his bitch…"
The comparison evidently did not get the reaction she expected, for the vampire grinned excitedly and his dark eyes widened.
She groaned.
"He can do that as many times as he wishes," Regis said quickly. "Did I tell you about the sarcophagus already?"
"Yes, yes. Please don't tell me a sixth time!"
"Was it really only five times? I could have sworn I've already told you the sixth."
"Ah. I remember now. So you have."
The vampire was smiling fondly, quietly to himself.
"I wouldn't speak so much about him if I didn't truly feel this way. I'm aware that he's a man. That he's… a witcher. No, he can't penetrate with the mind… but he let me… Oh. He's loved me in all the ways he how he knows how to. That's all. That's enough. More than enough…"
She didn't interrupt him.
He was still smiling.
"He loves me like… like a man," said Regis quietly. "He… he told me that. And it's the funniest thing. You'll laugh. It's alright, I won't be offended."
"What is it?"
"When he said that… when he spoke those words to me and gave me his hand. I, in that moment… I felt like a man, too."
"I know you pretend to be one."
"No, no," he corrected excitedly, although his voice was only a whisper. "Not pretend. I felt… like one. Like a person."
"What?"
"I felt like I was a human. Like I had always been human. Like I… He touched me, and I… Suddenly, I had become a mortal thing. I was going to die. I was so weak and powerless…"
"That's… horrid."
"I thought so too, at first. I felt nauseous. In that moment, death was real, it was upon me, it could happen at any moment! At any moment, I would be gone, forgotten, rotting, melted away. Ha, ha. I was simply terrified! But then, do you know what I felt?"
"No."
"Boldness. Bravery! Something inside me stood up and screamed, "Love me, then, love me now, for we won't be here tomorrow, we won't get a second chance!" No longer was I afraid. For once, I had no fear. But I wasn't calm, either. I was frantic. I had a need to feel, to run, to eat and… live. Live, before I died."
He stared at nothingness in wonder.
"I still feel that, even now… even though it's been some time… perhaps we're wrong. Perhaps he is capable of penetrating the mind. Because he's been inside me. And left… something. I still have it. I'm not sure what it is."
"Let's hope it's not contagious."
"I knew you'd laugh. Well, then. Ha. Ha. We can laugh together. But I've meant everything I say. Which is why I had to tell you… I knew I would divulge everything to you. Or that you would know already. You're an expert, after all. I seek your expert opinion. What is it, Natanis? What do you think it is?"
"I don't know."
"You won't even try to guess?"
"I'm a little afraid to find out."
"But you can see what I feel. You know me, you've been inside of me… You felt me, I've felt you."
"Yes. But I don't understand you."
"Oh."
"Of everything I've seen," she furrowed her brow, "Of all the people and not-people I've known… you're still so…"
She sighed.
"You're strange," she said frustratedly. "I can't fathom you, vampire. You're unlike any other vampire I've met. Or any other creature. You're very strange."
"You've told me that already. A little while ago. When we first met."
"So I have. So you are. It's not a bad quality… uniqueness. Variety is the spice of life, after all. But I don't get what you are, or how you feel. Or what you feel about."
"That's also why," Regis said in a low voice, "I ask you to see him with me."
"Is it?"
"Yes. Because I think, if you see him, you'll know… You'll know immediately what I'm feeling. You'll understand it."
"Hmm…"
"I'll ask this of you once," he said calmly, "Once, and never again. If you don't wish me to, I'll… I won't speak of him anymore in your presence. That is, vocally or telepathically. I can't help what I think or feel, what you sense from me isn't under my control. But I ask you, because… Well, haven't I pleased you well? Don't I deserve something like that?"
"You've already asked me to stop haunting. That is ask enough of me."
Regis shifted.
"That is true. Although, it wasn't my personal request. I made it on behalf of the witcher."
"I know. And this? Your personal ask of me?"
"Yes."
"Hmm…"
"Will you?" he asked, smiling with excitement. "Will you fly with me to the palace? Oh, Natanis. Only for the evening, an hour or so."
She thought for a moment.
"I will. Do you know why? There are three reasons."
"What are they?"
"I'd like to stretch my wings. And I miss the palace."
"That's two."
"The third," she explained without affection in her voice, in a matter-of-fact tone, "is that you're likable, Emiel Regis. And you please me well. So I will grant you such a favor."
She saw him smile and responded with her own.
"And there's something else."
"Hm? What might that be?"
"You forget what I can see, as a succubus. I know it's not easy to imagine, what I can see in you… but I can see it all clearly."
"What? Oh…"
"Yes. I know the real reason you want me to see this witcher. I've read those thoughts of yours. Ha, ha."
Regis pursed his lips.
"You can't possibly tell me that you're scandalized by the idea of a ménage à trois. A simple, little one…"
"Oh, simple?"
She measured him with her eyes.
"I don't think what you've thought up is so simple. All those stories, poses and positions. Don't diminish your mind. You're very creative, vampire. It's a rare virtue, you should be happy to have it. Yes… a rare virtue."
***
Regis knew that it was a stupid and risky manuever to fly to the palace. He had been sent by Geralt to dissuade the succubus from haunting, to keep her away from the palace, not bring her back to it. But he found her beautiful, and how could he not?
That noted, the palace was also a place of beauty, and beautiful things, he thought, should go together, like classic paintings housed in an architectural marvel.
He had taken many risks since they arrived in Beauclair. Many for Geralt, many for the company. He had even risked his wing and neck for little Angoulême, if only because she amused him and he couldn't abandon her.
But those were selfless risks, and this was a selfish one. Purely selfish and stupid, and although not vicious, it reminded him of the kind of stupidity that young vampires got up to when they eagerly haunted and frightened.
This wouldn't turn out like that. Thankfully.
If only because neither of them were young, nor were they stupid.
The succubus Natanis was centuries old, as old as Regis, if not a little more. He saw her as she was, without illusion, which all succubi were innately skilled in weaving.
She was a mature woman, with a stern face which brought to mind nobility and literate women of managerial prudence, who ran estates and counted sums. And she possessed all womanly features, indeed. Unlike Regis, who was a vampire and thus stick-thin, Natanis was an attractive woman, with a voluptuous and generous figure which would have made statues of fertility goddesses tremble with envy. She had everything, and more.
That more, of course, came in the form of snake-like pupils, a similarly forked tongue, the dagger-like teeth and brush tail of a lion.
And the wings of a bat.
Regis was more excited by those parts than by her womanly ones.
He liked her and she liked him, if only because they found much to talk about, and he satisfied her whims with a polite demeanor, paying homage to her beauty with a nod of his head and not messing too much up in her life otherwise. He could sense when to leave her, and when to go to her.
Both of them were too old and knowledgable to be infatuated with the idiocy of committment and cohabitation, so they comfortably lived their own, separate lives, asides from the agreement they had.
Which also meant that they never agreed on much, but their relationship to each other.
The witcher was a sore point of contention between them.
Never did they have a meeting where Regis did not bring him up, mentioning him in some way or another, even though the very idea of a witcher offended and frightened the succubus.
Regis insisted that this witcher was not so offensive, nor was he frightening or at all difficult on the eyes. He had raved about his masculinity to her many times, and so she would finally be able to judge for herself.
A foolish and naïve part of the vampire had imagined them three meeting as people, introducing Natanis as a countess from a far-off country, and having them meet with a curtsey and a bow, then parting for the night. And Regis would get to later ask Geralt what he thought of the lady, and then proudly reveal to him that she was not just any ordinary woman.
It was possible, for a succubus could disguise herself easily as a human by using a simple illusion, and even without intending to do so. However, it would have been complicated to pull off, for Natanis was never awake during the daytime, she didn't like torchlight and had a habit of snarling at it. And she, unlike Regis, had never mastered avoiding detection by magical baubles such as a witcher's medallion or Fringilla's chrysoprase amulet.
Also unlike Regis, she had an allergy to silver. Luckily, it was less terrible than a fatal one. Silver made her break out in hives. As did gluten, she claimed.
So they didn't enter the basement cellar as people. Instead, they flew there and perched on a rafter.
A succubus was like a vampire in that she could dematerialize and rematerialize at will, remain invisible, and was not witnessed unless she wanted to be witnessed.
It made Regis somewhat sad, because he found her so beautiful it felt a shame for her to remain unnoticed, but he knew it was for the best. Still, it was a pity. They might never know her pretty wingspan, which dwarfed a bedroom.
The Beauclair cellars were tall, having been hollowed out into the rock below the original elven edifice. They were dark, dry, and frequently treated by professional ratcatchers, which would have made them silent, solemn, and peaceful cave-like environments perfect for napping or an midnight doze. Unfortunately, they were often frequented by the constant foot traffic of people, which made napping in the rafters an impossibility. Regis knew, because he had tried.
Below them, some men walked, carrying a torch and speaking in low voices. In the darkness and through the gloom, the vampire and the succubus could see them easily.
"Down there? Which one?"
"Tall, white hair. He's, ha, ha, also wearing his new jacket… Ooh."
"With the frown on his face? And the… silver spikes?"
"That's the one," Regis smiled, leaning down on the beam like a cat. "Cute, don't you think?"
Geralt below was listening to the rest of the men, crossing his arms and occassionally looking, pointing, gesturing. It was clear he was being hired for something or rather, and was pressing the men for details.
Natanis didn't reply. The look on her face was answer enough.
"Come, come," Regis said, encouraging her. "Look closer. Look… He's going to turn around soon. Take a gander at his backside while he's facing away from us. Mmm…!"
"I don't like that sword on his back."
"Why not? In my opinion, he doesn't take it out often enough, doesn't let us see it, the tease. He's very solemn and private about it. He has… principles, you know," he said slowly, gazing down at him. "He's very honorable. Oh, yes."
"The idea of an honorable killer is a paradox. An impossible paradox."
"Just like the idea of a vampire that doesn't drink," he shrugged, "but it's the reality and truth. You've told me I'm strange. I'll accept that. He is too, I'll tell you. But life, you must admit, is much stranger. Oh, look! Look, he's turning around now, the group is walking out. Gaze upon his face, his features."
He sighed to himself quietly. With fondness.
"Hello, Geralt…"
The succubus hissed and curled backwards on the beam.
"His eyes… They reflect…"
"Like ours! Isn't that magnificent? They're even more impressive up close. Set in his mature, thinking face… He sees everything, you know."
She grabbed his hand.
"Oh, no, no. He's looking straight at us. He…"
"He probably has felt something. But he can't see us, don't worry."
"I thought you said he sees everything."
"Most things."
She whined.
"Regis…"
"What is it?"
"This is the man you like?"
"I not only like him. I adore him."
"But he's so…"
"What?"
"He's so ugly."
Regis raised his head.
"No, he's not. Take that back, please. You haven't even seen his teeth, yet."
"I've seen enough of him. Now, can we fly away?"
"Why? Let's…"
"I don't like it. I don't like him," she turned her straight nose up. "I deigned to come here, but you haven't persuaded me. I don't understand it at all. They took a normal man and made him into something… freakish, that smells of death. If you desire this mutant killer so much, that's your business. I won't even hold it against you, because you're so useful otherwise. But you won't convince me. I don't like him… He scares me."
"Alright, alright," Regis calmed, staying her forearm. "I see looking isn't enough. I'll demonstrate."
"Demonstrate?"
"To show you that you needn't be scared of him. I'll go down there right now and speak to him. Maybe a little more than speak. You'll immediately see he's a normal man, a very nice one."
"You don't have to do that. It won't change a thing."
"I want to. Wait but a moment, I have to tie my hair… Oh, I've forgotten my comb back at your place… Hmm…"
He pulled his long hair back and restrained it with a velvet ribbon. She snorted.
"You look very funny like that."
"Do I? I suppose I do."
"Oh, ha, ha, ha! And what are those?"
"Spectacles. Look."
"Ugh, what was that? With your eyes?"
"It's called blinking. And then you put your lips… you make your mouth small. And try to look thoughtful."
"You really walk around like this?"
"I do. It's a lot of fun!"
"If you say so."
"Watch."
***
"If that's all, then, sirs, I'll see you soon. Let's reconvene in the Knight's Hall next week, same time. If anything comes up before then, I'll make sure to find a page and inform you."
"You have our gratitude, Master Witcher."
They shook hands firmly, like men do.
"Aren't you coming up the stairs?"
"No. I need to investigate what you've pointed out to me a little more."
"Fine, fine. We bid you a good evening."
There was a nod of a head and a closing of the door. The cellar was plunged into darkness.
The witcher sighed.
Work.
He thought to go around the second and third rows, investigate the casks there for mold or blight. Whether or not the source of the problem was magic would then be seen.
It was a strange cellar. The butlers had complained of a disturbance from below, but as he was being shown around, Geralt had felt a presence looming about on the ceiling. Stranger was, that there had been nothing there when he had looked.
Neither did he feel alone now, stalking amidst the rows of casks.
He unsheathed his sword. The silver, sharp as a razor, shimmered in the cold, subterranean air.
It could be necessary. Better safe than sorry…
Especially because he felt the presence watching him, drawing nearer…
Nearer…
Then, inbetween the overpowering scents of wine and oak, he caught the scent of sage and aniseed. His muscles immediately relaxed.
He sheathed the sword.
"Regis?"
The shape of a man materialized six paces ahead of him, appearing from the darkness.
"Hello, Geralt."
The witcher sighed.
"It's you. Ha, well, I'm glad… I'm happy to see you. Has it been just you this whole time? Only you? I don't think so, right? There's something underground, too, that they were telling me about. Unless you were also down there."
"Not on this night. Indeed, I think the butlers were right, there is something down there. It rattles a bit, it has been for the past two weeks or so. You should investigate that."
"I will. Is there something you wanted to tell me? Seeing as we're in private, in the dark, and not in the kitchen, out there?"
Regis shrugged.
"Not particularly."
"Then, why…"
"Privacy and darkness have other purposes, Geralt. You know what they are."
The witcher blinked. Swallowed.
"I missed you," he said, trying not to sound pathetic.
"It's barely been three days."
"I know. I missed you, still."
"Do you know something?"
"What?"
Regis smiled.
"I missed you as well. Come here, please."
The vampire still stood apart from him by six paces. Geralt was with him in two. Their eyes met with anticipation.
And their hands began to move, hastefully and skilfully.
"I should get back to work, soon."
"I know. I'll be quick."
"I didn't ask that. You don't have to be. But it would be convenient if you wouldn't disappear… make me chase you…"
"I won't. That was fun, though."
"It was. Ah…"
Geralt felt the vampire's touch through his winter clothes and swallowed a moan.
"We can't be too loud."
"I know. It echoes in here. And as I said, I'll be quick."
"Then I had better get started."
He seized his waist and kissed him, pressing them together, feeling and delighting in his cold lips and breath.
The witcher hadn't lied. He had missed him.
"Thank you. I was going to ask you to do that."
"I can do it more."
Their lips and teeth met again, hurriedly, with desire, although they were completely alone and wouldn't be discovered by anyone.
They tasted each other, felt each other's bodies, moved. Whispered. Sighed.
Then Regis suddenly broke apart from him.
Geralt panted, sweated, and produced a sound somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. He let Regis go, but stood apart from him with his hands open, eager to begin again.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," Regis said, looking up somewhere at the rafters. "We're…"
He coughed slightly and sighed.
"We're alone."
"I know," Geralt smiled. "Around here… finally. It's a miracle, isn't it? Don't worry, I swear it won't be for too long. Hurry, before Cahir comes to inform us of something, Milva needs our reassurances, or Angouleme bothers us with gossip."
Regis didn't answer.
"What is it?"
"It's nothing."
The witcher furrowed his brow.
"Do you want to stop? Did I do something wrong? I apologize," he looked at the ground, calming his breath. "I was… I… I'm a little eager… I can't help it. I'm only a man, you know."
Regis stared at him.
"You haven't done anything wrong," he said.
He held him by the shoulders, and gazed down upon his belly, ribcage, over his chest… and up. At his eyes.
"You have pretty eyes, Geralt."
"Thanks. I think you've told me that, already."
"I'll tell you again. Oh… oh."
"What is it?"
"It's nothing. I simply…"
He laughed, breathlessly, pushing them together with a calm, slow motion.
Shining eyes met in the darkness.
"I simply adore you."
Geralt smiled. Grinned pridefully, which he typically never did.
"That's nice to hear. I adore you, too."
They held each other. They didn't begin again, not for a while. They simply embraced.
"I've changed my mind. Some things aren't meant to be shared," Regis whispered. "They're too precious. So precious, that you selfishly want to keep them all to yourself."
"You won't believe it, Regis, but that's also a part of love. The dark side of it."
"It's terrible."
"It's normal. But I'm the one who's sorry."
"Why?"
"I'm sorry," he grimaced, "that I can't break things off with Fringilla. That I have to love her… I'm obligated to. I wouldn't like to hurt her, either, but I… It pains me a little… That I can't love you in the daylight, too. I'd like to hold your hand and kiss you… in the sun… in the gardens… as two men."
Regis stared at his chest.
"We have enough. You've already given to me enough…"
"You've given more."
"You don't understand," he laughed softly, sadly, blinking back tears. "You don't understand how much you've given me…"
"I'd like to give you more. As far as selfishness goes, I've also felt selfishly. I've been thinking."
"About what?"
He cleared his throat.
"I can tell where you go on evenings. You know, I haven't thanked you for that yet. Because I couldn't have refused the Duchess's orders. But I also couldn't kill… her. Not ever. Unless she killed. My code forbids it."
"Your code," he smiled. "Your conscience."
"One and the same. I forbid myself… I won't lie, I've made many mistakes before. In the past. I try not to make them now. Although I already knew, a long time ago, beautiful things shouldn't be harmed. They can only be loved."
Regis said nothing, but only smiled.
"It must be a great effort with her. I can sense when you're, forgive me, tired. You might not see it as a sacrifice, Regis, but I'm grateful for it all the same. Although…"
He licked his lips.
"I have to admit, confess to you something."
"What is it?"
"I'm jealous of her, too."
"Pardon me?"
"She gets to love you. To know you. Fully."
"You have known me. Don't tell me you've forgotten already."
"But not only on one night, on nights few and far between. I wish I could know you more. That I was fully capable, not only partially. I'm a witcher, I have my feet in both worlds, but I belong to neither one nor the other. And, I regret that I can't satisfy like she can. I'm only a man. A lame one, at that, with my knee. In comparison, I probably… It's like the difference between a bred racehorse and a mangy mutt."
"That's horrible."
"But accurate. She can love you in all the ways I know I can't… I'm limited. I can only love you in the ways I know."
"You don't know how beautiful those ways are."
They were very close, leaning together in the darkness. They did not even see each other's eyes. They were whispering into each other's ears.
"Geralt?"
"Mm?"
"Love me…"
"Like a witcher?"
"Like a man."
"You don't have to ask. I already do."
"Oh…"
"But I'm glad you asked. Do you know why?"
"Why?"
"I only have one regret about those few nights ago. Our night. My regret is that I didn't get a chance."
"A chance for what?"
"To do this."
The witcher dropped to his knees.
He seethed, immediately, feeling the pain in his right knee flash and radiate through him. Hurriedly, he took off his leather jacket, folded it into a bundle, and placed it under his knee like a cushion.
"Let me…"
Regis watched him with emotion, seeing him lower and arch himself.
Geralt gazed up at him, tilting his head back and smiling.
He took Regis's hand, removing it from his cheek. He placed it on his head, digging his fingers into the back of his neck and tangling them with his long white hair.
"I'll admit, I'm a far cry from a succubus, Regis. But, I'll also admit…"
He cleared his throat.
"I'm pretty good at this."