You tried to move your hand so you could rub your head but you found that you weren’t able to move your hands. Your eyes widened suddenly and you lifted your head. 

The room was pitch black with the exception of a ray of moonlight shining in through a window to your left. 

“Jaskier!”

“Just over here, darling.” He spoke from your right. You turned your head as far as you could to the right. From what you could see, he was bound to a chair behind you. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Yennefer? Is she here?”

“I don’t think so.”

You began to try to wiggle out of the bonds, but you didn’t get very far before there was something on the other side of the room that caught your attention. Someone snapped your fingers and what looked like a flame appeared, though you didn’t know what the source was. 

“Well that’s unsettling.” Jaskier whispered. 

You watched the very faint outline of a person move in the shadow. 

“Uh, uh, look. We don’t have any money.” Jaskier spoke, his voice shaky. “I am but a, uh…. a humble bard and my dear friend here, she’s-she’s my traveling companion. 

The floorboards creaked as the stranger moved, though you couldn’t tell if they were growing closer or further away until they snapped their fingers. The flame appeared closer. 

“Or-Or if this is about your wife, your mistress, niece–,”

“Shut up.” You muttered to Jaskier, fearing he would be making the situation worse. 

Your heart raced in your chest as you watched the figure. The next time he snapped his fingers, he was directly beside you. 

You flinched, realizing the fire was coming from his fingertip. 

Oh fuck. 

“Look, if you’re just a really big fan, then please note that I am not willing to discuss the subjects of my work, its inspiration or characters, fictitious or otherwise.” Jaskier’s breathing was shaky as he spoke, though he tried to stay calm and stoic. “So why don’t you just show yourself, and we can have a nice chat, and you can tell me what you want from us?”

You strained to see over your shoulder what was happening. 

The stranger- a man -was now in front of Jaskier. He placed one hand on the back of Jaskier’s chair and bent down to be face to face with him. He snapped his fingers, the heat of the flame lighting up Jaskier’s features. 

“Fucking-! Fuck!”

“Shhh.” The man hushed him, clearly taunting the bard. 

You pulled against the rope holding your wrists to the arms of the chair, desperate to get out and try to help your friend. 

“Hello, Jaskier.” The man spoke finally. 

***

You tried to move your fingers. They were numb, scorched from the mage’s magic. But you could feel a pain in your wrist and up your arm. You imagined it was similar to the same pain being cut open with a dull knife would bring. 

“Y/N- Y/N, are you alright?” Jaskier choked out, his mouth full of his own blood. 

Your eyes flickered over to him as you nodded your head. You couldn’t use your voice just yet.  

He spat the blood off to the side, then leaned back in his chair, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. 

“We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

You kept your lips pressed together, unable to bring yourself to say anything. What if you were truly fucked? What if this was it? 

The mage wanted information on Geralt, which neither you nor Jaskier were going to give up. You would take what you knew about the witchers to your death– which seemed to be very near. 

Tears blurred your vision and your throat became scratchy. 

“Jask, I-I’m-I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Y/N.” He spoke your name gently. “Don’t-Don’t do that. You can’t. We can’t give up, darling–,”

“This is it for us.”

“It isn’t. It can’t be.” Jaskier firmly shook his head. “That lover of yours would fucking kill me if I let you die…. What’s his name? Tell me about him.”

You shook your head, blinking the tears away but all that did was make them fall down your cheeks. 

“I haven’t even seen him since last winter.” You cried. The physical pain paled in comparison to the pain you felt in your chest from the thought of leaving Lambert without so much as a goodbye. 

“And you’ll see him again, darling. We’ll make it through this.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, bard.” The mage spoke from somewhere behind you. 

You stiffened up in your seat, blinking a few times to get rid of the tears in your eyes. 

A hand found the back of your chair as the mage walked around you. 

“Tell me about this lover of yours, Y/N.” 

You clenched your teeth together as you glared up at him. 

Did the mage know about Lambert? Your stomach churned at the thought.

“Do you think he’d want you to die like this?”

“Fuck off, you son of a whore!” You pulled against your bonds. 

“Leave her alone!” Jaskier shouted. 

Before anyone could say anything else, there was a crashing noise that came from the bar. 

You turned your head, hoping to get a look at whatever it was, but you couldn’t see that far behind you. 

“I knew I’d find you here.” Yennefer spoke, her words slurring. “You lazy lout.”

A part of you began to panic even more. She didn’t have her magic anymore, so there was no way she could deal with the mage. She’d end up dead too. 

“Leaving me home alone to rot!” She hiccuped. 

The mage stood up as he watched her, momentarily forgetting about you. 

“Uh, uh…. This is my wife.” Jaskier told the mage. “She has nothing to do with this. Please let her go!”

“If you know what’s good for you, leave.” The mage said, irritated with her presence. “Now.”

There was a pause of silence. You heard a bit of moving around, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. 

“If you knew what’s good for you, you’d shut the fuck up.” Yennefer hiccuped again. 

“Have it your way.” The mage grabbed Yennefer and suddenly pushed her into a wooden column. 

Now they were just outside of your peripherals and you could see exactly what was happening. 

“No, no! No, please! Don’t hurt her! Leave her alone, please!” Jaskier begged, frantically gripping the arms of his chair. “She’s done nothing!”

You used the distraction to try to get your binds undone in any way possible. But this only seemed to cause you to rub your wrists raw. 

The mage snapped his fingers, causing a flame to appear above his index finger. 

Yennefer suddenly spat the alcohol she had been drinking at the mage, setting his face alight. He fell to the floor in pain, crying out. 

As fast as she could, she undid both yours and Jaskier’s binds and rushed you out of the tavern.

***

“Who the fuck was that?” Jaskier breathed out, leaning against a doorframe. 

“How should I know?” Yennefer looked back in the direction you three had run from. “You’re the ones he kidnapped.”

You leaned against the barrel next to you, your insides swirling around like a storm cloud. 

“Oh what? You mages don’t all share an alma mater? You didn’t catch him at an alumni event?”

“You know, I was looking forward to a few more thank yous, perhaps some genuflection.”

You heaved and threw up on the ground. Whether it was from your nerves or the terrible pain in your hands, you weren’t sure. Perhaps it was both. 

“Geralt.” You choked out, wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your tunic. “He’s-He’s after Geralt.”

“What?” Yennefer furrowed her brows. “Why? What does he want with him?”

“You know, I assumed it was to drink tea and eat crumpets and wax nostalgic over old times.”

“Jaskier.” You shook your head. You couldn’t catch your breath enough to be able to argue with them. Your chest was tightening and you couldn’t breathe. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Yennefer asked. 

“I couldn’t tell you. But maybe it’s the fact that we almost died not even three minutes ago!”

Yennefer put her hand on your arm, but you didn’t acknowledge her. You kept your head down, eyes closed tightly as you tried to remember how to calm down.

She tilted your head up, brows furrowed. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“I-I just– I can’t–,” You shook your head. “Lambert. I almost…. And I haven’t seen him.”

“A panic attack.” Jaskier told Yennefer. 

“It’ll be alright. Come on. We need to keep moving.” Yennefer put her arm around you to provide you with support. 

***

After a confrontation with a group of men that resulted in Yennefer kicking one man in his bullocks, you and Jaskier were split up from the mage. When you found her again, she disappeared right before your eyes. 

“Fucking hell!” Jaskier stepped away from the window, rubbing his brow with the heel of his palm. “So much for not having her magic.”

“I-I don’t know how much further I can go, Jask.” You told him, shaking your head softly. “My hands…. They hurt so bad.”

“I know, darling.” He looked up and down the alley. “We need to find shelter.”

“I need to get to Kaer Morhen.”

He looked at you like you’d just spoken an unfamiliar language. 

“Kaer Morhen? That’s miles and miles away. A few weeks worth of traveling. We wouldn’t make it far in our state.”

“I was a healer decades ago. I-I know some magic, but not a lot. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything, I don’t know if it’ll work. But I can try to conjure a portal.”

“Try?” He repeated. 

“Try. As in, it may lead to where I want it to, or it may lead to the bottom of the ocean.”

Jaskier chuckled, putting his hands on his hips. 

“I don’t know if I like those odds, if I’m honest.”

“We don’t have any choice, Jaskier. We need to warn Geralt.”

A somber look came over his features. 

“How do you know he’s at Kaer Morhen?”

“Winter is coming. If he isn’t there already, then he will be soon enough.” “Are you sure this is safe to do, Y/N? I’d really rather not end up at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Neither would I.”

You took a deep breath as you looked around in search for something to draw energy from. 

There was a pot of flowers near the door to your left. Hopefully that would be enough.

“Give me your hand, Jaskier.”

***

Ciri stared down at the bowl of stew in front of her. She sat at the same table as Coen, Lambert, and Geralt. 

“It’s not going to get any more appetizing the longer you stare at it.” Coen told her. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to keep your energy up.” Geralt said. 

She sighed heavily. 

With no warning, a portal opened above the table they were at. Having no time to react, the witchers and the princess could only watch as two people fell from the portal. One landed on the table while the other one rolled off into the floor. 

“What the fuck!” Lambert shouted, jumping to his feet. He started to reach for the dagger on his hip when he realized it was you who had landed on the table. “Y/N, what the fuck?”

You groaned as you pushed yourself up on to one elbow. 

“Jaskier!” You looked around in search for the bard. 

“For fuck’s sake, I think I would’ve rather landed in the ocean.” He grumbled as he got to his feet. 

“What happened?” Lambert held his hand out for you, wanting to help you down from the table. 

“I-I can’t, Lambert.” You looked at your hands. 

He followed your gaze, eyes widening as he realized you had been burned terribly. 

He clenched his teeth together, turning his attention to the unfamiliar man that had followed you through the portal. 

Lambert grabbed the front of Jaskier’s doublet, almost effortlessly hauling him to his feet. 

“What the fuck happened to Y/N?”

“Lambert, let him go.” Geralt came to stand by his brother, golden eyes finding Jaskier. “He didn’t hurt her.”

“Geralt’s right, Lambert.” You got down from the table so you could stand beside Jaskier. “It was a mage. He hurt us both.”

Lambert let Jaskier go, growling in frustration. 

Jaskier nervously chuckled, straightening his doublet. 

“He certainly is a charming one, Y/N.”

Lambert turned his attention back to you. You didn’t let him get a word out before you threw your arms around him. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you ever again.” You whispered. 

“You’re shaking, bug.” Lambert slipped his arms around you, giving you a firm squeeze. 

“I’m just so glad to see you.” You kissed his neck and then his cheek. You wanted so badly to fist his doublet, but you had to remind yourself of the injuries on your fingers. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck. “Then we can talk about this mage fucker.”

.

You don’t really like the crowd today. They seem to be a bit too prude to enjoy your more spicy lyrics and somehow obscene enough to send you disgustingly lewd looks during the more decent ones. One man even tries to pull up your skirt as you’re passing by, but, fortunately, The Kingfisher Inn is a respectable tavern, where acts like this are punished by a broken nose and a toss into the mud outside.

One last song and you can go upstairs, take a well-deserved bath that is being prepared just now and then fall asleep with a wine glass in your hand. You go through the list of songs in your head, thinking about what you could perform to properly frame your entire performance. You take a sip of mead that's a little bit too weak.

‘Do you take song requests, lass?’ a voice from behind you asks. 

‘I’m afraid not, love, I—’ you start, turning around before your mind registers the familiarity of that voice. You can’t withhold a small, happy whimper, when you see Lambert, looking, as always, a little scruffy, his armor covered in dark spots of dried blood. He’s leaning on a table nonchalantly. ‘Good to see you, Wolf.’ You walk up to him, a bit too fast to pretend you’re at least a little bit indifferent to seeing him. You wrap your arms around his neck and feel his big hand cupping your buttcheek. ‘If I knew you were in Novigrad I would have worn a sluttier shirt,’ you whisper in his ear, firmly guiding his hand from your ass to your lower back. You back away a bit to look at his face, but still can’t find it in yourself to take your hands off his shoulders.

‘Yes, this one is hideous, you should definitely take it off,’ Lambert teases, very obviously looking at your breasts, gorgeously accentuated by your favorite corset. 

‘I will. Right after this song. In my room.’ You take a step back and take your lute from the table. ‘And you're welcome to join me there,’ you add, smiling seductively at him over your shoulder.

Even though you both traveled a lot, fate always seemed to bring the two of you together at least once a year. 

The first time it happened, a few years back in Oxenfurt, you didn't like him very much. He was impolite, self-centered, grouchy and, to be honest, smelled terrible. But he was also handsome and seemed to be impressed by your performance and weirdly infatuated with you, just showing it in his own, rude way. You were bored with sleeping with bards, other artists, and boring nobles and decided to spend a night with Lambert. You feared this might be a mistake. He was a witcher after all. A brute, barely human anymore, and on top of all that, an arsehole. You thought he might just unceremoniously throw you on the bed, screw you and then fall asleep within seconds, never giving a thought to whether you are enjoying it or not. To your surprise, the first thing he did was order a bath in his room because he knew it probably bothered you that he “smells like a fiend's shit”. You spent a long time in the warm water together, him covering your neck and breast with open-mouthed kisses and constantly complimenting your body in an awkward but oddly endearing way. He didn’t let you sleep that night. 

The second time it was in a small inn in the middle of nowhere, Nilfgard. You were the last person he expected to meet there and seemed sincerely happy to see you. On that evening, he ate you out like his life depended on it and made you cum four times before he even took his pants off. And then a few more times after he did. The innkeeper knew both of your first names by the morning even though neither of you introduced yourselves when you checked in.

At some point, your body started adding butterflies fluttering in your stomach to the hot yearning in your abdomen you felt every time you saw him. It might have been because of this warm spark in his eyes that welcomed you in the morning or maybe the way he had to adjust to small gestures of gentleness you offered him. Whether it was delicate scratching on the back, scalp massage, or small kisses you littered his chest with, for a long time he seemed startled by them, like no one ever treated him with such tenderness. Maybe it was the way his face lightened up when you wanted to talk to him about poetry or music instead of monsters and death. You even gifted him a small notebook, where you have written down all of your favorite poems and the next time you met, he knew most of them by heart. You couldn't know that he tried real hard to learn them quickly, opening the notebook only for short periods of time, to preserve the smell of your perfume that soaked into the pages. You also couldn't know he searched for you at each inn he stayed at. And felt you in every song he heard. You couldn't know that.

So your romantic soul was regularly being tempered by your pretty practical mind. You knew better than to expect some kind of exclusivity or stability from him.

After all, he was still a witcher.

‘Break a leg!’ he yells as you walk back on the stage. A few guests send him a disapproving look and you can’t help but smile at their discontent. Lambert leans against the wall in the corner and smiles softly at you. You know what song you’re going to sing. 

Silver moon slides through the night sky, hearing my voice cry here,

We’re alone between the clouds, still yearning for the dawn

Lay your head down on my lap and let the sleep come, my dear

Both so grateful and so sorry we were ever born

It seems like you finally found a common language with your audience. For a moment you see how many of them are just as tired as you are and just as lonely. A group of men in the corner stopped loudly talking like they did during the entirety of your performance until now, and now sit quietly, aggressively silencing other people who might be as much as whispering something too loud.

Hear a laughter in the darkness, quiet, strange and brittle

Smell the mint and marjoram, smell lilac and wild clove

You can't resist the urge to look at Lambert, feeling that humiliating softness you have for him overflowing you.

On a night like this we all love somebody a little

Or we just convince ourselves that it is in fact love

One lady who kept making comments to her friend while peeking at you and laughing with a mean smirk on her face now stares yearningly at her friend’s red lips and her eyes water a little. 

Head already spinning even though it's really early

Fluttering heartbeat loud like a heavy iron bell

Taste of vodka, blood, regret between our two tongues twirling 

All the reasons to die, to live, to go or to stay

Your eyes wander between guests. Most of them stare into the distance or lean against each other, a melancholically romantic mood spreading throughout the entire tavern. 

The old fountain whispers lies, makes me blush through the curtain

Bit too sure about this or maybe not sure enough

Wonder if that smile is honest, I am not so certain

But I certainly don't want to risk and call your bluff.

Applause is not very loud but it’s okay. Most guests start closing their tabs and preparing to leave. If they’re lucky, with someone. You slowly walk off the stage, not saying anything to officially finish off. No words seem appropriate now.

You look around while slowly walking towards the staircase. Lambert approaches you, a bag on his shoulder.

‘That was a new one, wasn’t it?’ he asks, pointing vaguely in the direction of the stage.

‘Yes, I wrote it last winter.’ Right after our last time together, you don’t dare to say out loud.

‘I like it.’ He puts his arm around you and you both start walking up the stairs towards your room. ‘But I must admit, not as much as I like the way you are all hot and bothered now,’ he adds quietly and then inhales sharply. ‘Fuck, is all that excitement I can smell for me?’

‘Actually,’ you smile mischievously, ‘it was for a lady at the table by the window, but since she left, you will suffice.’

‘Well, I hoped Essi Daven would be performing tonight, but I guess you will do.’

You both chuckle as you reach your room. You got it as a part of your payment for performing so it was not the best room in The Kingfisher Inn but it was enough. The bed was big, a view from the window acceptable and the water in the bath you ordered was warm and nice.

‘Make yourself at home,’ you say and immediately hear a thump of a bag hitting the floor and feel two big hands digging into your hips and pulling you into a hug from behind.

‘I missed you,’ Lambert mumbles already kissing your neck ‘and those delicious thighs of yours.’ His fingers dig deeper into your warm flesh through your skirt and he presses himself against your back more firmly. You can feel his erection against your butt. ‘You make me so hard’ he groans against the skin on your shoulder, pushing your shirt out of the way. His hands start untying your corset to get you naked as soon as possible. As it falls on the floor, you turn around and start working on removing his clothes.

He got a few new scars since the last time you saw him. One really big one right under his collarbone. You trace it with your fingers. He trembles a little.

‘Actually, I think it is a bit too small for both of us to fit in there,’ you say, as Lambert slowly guides you towards the tub. 

‘Oh we’ll fit, don’t worry.’

You do, in fact, fit. You have to sit astride on Lamber’s lap but that is one of your favorite ways to enjoy a bath in anyway. His hands explore your chest, massaging your breasts gently, as you wash his hair, trying really hard not to get soap in his eyes. He strokes your breasts, his calloused, hard fingers scraping a little bit against your skin. 

‘How come each time I look at you, you get prettier?’

You blush and let out an embarrassingly honest giggle. Drops of water shine on Lambert's muscular shoulders, glistering with the light of candles on the walls. His dick is throbbing at your core, his hands all over you. But sex in the tub this small wouldn't really be comfortable. You both finish washing yourselves and get out, drying yourselves with towels. You keep peeking at him, his muscles tense under the mosaic of scars, the lovely path of coarse hair from his belly button down to his hard cock, the unhinged expression in his cat-like eyes. You can't resist the urge to touch his dick. He moans quietly as you curl your fingers around the shaft. 

‘Fuck yes, touch me,’ he mutters, tangling his hand into your hair. ‘Do you want it inside of you?’

‘Yes, so badly.’ You can barely control your lust. Everything about this man makes your insides burn, empty of him. You give him a firm jerk, he closes his eyes and licks his lips. You press your body against his, enjoying every square inch of skin to skin contact. He pulls your face up by the hair, pressing your lips to his, sighing heavily as you smear precum on the tip of his cock. He throbs in your hand.

‘You’re so gorgeous,’ Lambert mumbles. ‘And you smell so fucking good.’ He nudges your hand away and picks you up by your waist. He places you gently on the bed, and leans over you, placing a trail of kisses gently along your leg, covering it with goosebumps. He stops right over your pussy. ‘Do you know what you're doing to me?’ he almost growls, leaving sloppy kisses on the insides of your thighs, pushing your legs wider apart. ‘A mere thought of tasting you on my tongue drives me insane. I can’t focus on anything. All I want is your cunt on my face.’ His mouth gets closer to your pussy but then moves away right before he reaches it, teasing you ruthlessly.

‘Lambert… Lambert, please,’ you whimper, trying to move your pussy closer to him, but he puts his hand on your pelvis and firmly pins you in place. 

‘So eager. So needy…’ he mumbles and you feel his hot breath between your legs. ‘Gods, I missed you so much,’ the words leave his mouth right before he dives down into you, going straight for your clit, sucking on it. The intensity of sensations attacking you flashes in white before your eyes. A litany of broken moans and whimpers tumbles from your lips. You mindlessly run your fingers through his hair and push his head even closer to you. He licks down along your slit and thrusts his tongue into your entrance. “Fuck”s and “Gods”s escape your mouth like a heretic prayer.

Suddenly Lambert pulls away but before you lift your head to see what happened, a pleasure you never even imagined strikes you. A vibration travels from your abdomen through your entire body, touching even the tips of your fingers. Your legs shake uncontrollably, your back arches, head digs into the mattress. Before the lingering feeling fully fades away, another wave hits you, vibration absolutely shattering every nerve in your body. Orgasm takes you by surprise, the usually slow build-up happens in a fraction of a second, shaking you to the core. You let out a shriek, one that you would never suspect could be born in your throat. A warm ball of pleasure pulsates in your abdomen, then slowly starts to weaken. You breath heavily, your muscles relaxing after the climax. Vibrations stop. You slowly rise, leaning on your forearms, and see Lambert between your legs with a giant smirk on his face, his chest moving a bit faster than usual.

‘What was that?’ you whisper, trying hard to calm your breath. 

‘You like it?’. The question is rude as if he didn't just see you have the most intense orgasm in your life. He strokes your leg lazily. 

‘I loved it, but what was it?’

‘I told you about the Signs? Igni, Quen, Aard, y'know?’ He looks at you waiting for confirmation. You nod your head impatiently. ‘So, if I do Aard a few times in a row, very fast, it creates a vibration. And if I'm doing it very lightly, I can not only actually do it a few times in a row and not pass out, but also use it for much more pleasurable activities than fighting.’ He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your thigh. ‘It is still a bit fatiguing since it's a spell and all, but fuck… the way you looked, the way you sounded… it's worth it.’

Before you manage to say something in response, you hear knocking.

‘Um— Miss? Is everything alright?’ a voice from behind the door asks, seems sincerely worried. You recognize the innkeeper. You try to get up, but your body is still processing what just happened to it. ‘Miss? The guests informed me there was a scream—’ 

‘Yes, I’m alright!’ you say loudly. ‘I just, uh, fell!’ Lambert chokes on a laugh at your ridiculously bad lie.

‘Alright then, miss. Do you need anything?’

‘Nothing, thank you! And sorry for the noise, I will make sure to keep it down.’

‘Thank you, miss.’ You hear footsteps going away from the door.

‘You need to be more careful, miss,’ Lambert giggles, climbing up the bed to level his body with yours and laying next to you. ‘Next time you fall, I might not be there to catch you.’

You cut off his laughter by pulling him closer by his medallion into a sloppy kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips and moan at the memory of the pleasure he gave you. 

His hands lazily wander around your body. He tenderly traces stretch marks on your breasts and butt with his fingers. You told him once you don't like them and now he makes sure to always let you know that he absolutely adores them.

‘Lambert?’ you whisper, cupping his cheek and pulling back from the kiss. He smiles. 

‘What?’ A strand of his hair tickles his forehead. ‘What does my goddess have to say to her humble yet very handsome servant?’ He smiles at you, enjoying the way you blush at his words.

But you can't say it, can you? I think I love you? That's ridiculous! Or maybe I just convinced myself it's love? ‘Did you really like my song?’ you ask, stroking the scar on his cheek. Maybe he will understand you without needing to say it?

‘I wouldn't be here fucking a bad bard into tomorrow, would I?’ He didn't.

You just smile and pull him into a kiss again. His hand slides down to your pussy and he thrusts a finger into you. Your inside offers no resistance to him, slick dripping from you.

‘Lambert,’ you moan, any melancholic and sad thoughts sinking into oblivion, as the hot ball of excitement fills you again. ‘Your cock. Please.’ He pulls his fingers out. You caress his cheekbones with your thumbs, pulling yourself closer to him, feeling his hard dick against your abdomen. ‘Please—’

‘Since you asked so nicely…’ the witcher grins proudly, his ego boosted by you begging for him, guiding himself to your entrance. He slides into you, forcing a sharp breath out of your lungs, and then firmly grabs your thighs. ‘Hold on,’ he commands as he's rolling onto his back, with you still on his cock, now straddling him. 

He tries to pick you up by your hips, but you push his hands away. He obediently puts them behind his head, accidentally – or actually pretty purposefully – showing off the amazing muscles in his arms. He smirks as you start rolling your pelvis, your body like a wave. It makes his hard cock press against your walls in a gentle, yet very satisfying way, both his and your pubic hair tingling the area around your clit lightly. 

‘My pretty girl,’ he whispers, reaching to you with one hand and caressing your thigh. ‘I dream about fucking you every night. You're taking me so well.’ He closes his eyes and his hand moves up to your clit. ‘I fucking love you so much and I want you to cum on my cock.’ 

Before your brain manages to realize what he just said, his fingers form the Aard sign, relax and form Aard again and again. Vibrations hit you, another climax starts building up. You tilt your head back and start moving faster, chasing your high, your mind overflowing with hot waves of pleasure. 

‘I am so close, Lambert,’ you whisper, leaning forward, placing your hands on his chest, trying hard with everything you have to last longer, to let this pleasure continue, but you can't. You clench around him as you orgasm, moaning, biting down on your hand to muffle sounds falling from your mouth. He follows just behind you, his hot cum starts dripping from you.

As your muscles relax, you lie down on Lambert's chest. He strokes your back and kisses your forehead. He’s still inside you, sperm slowly drips on your abdomen.

‘Aard just became my favorite sign,’ he says, smirking.

‘Mine too.’

You slowly get up and clean yourselves up. You can't stop thinking about this small sentence he said, trying to convince yourself he didn't really mean that, and your heart beating so fast because of that is, to be honest, a bit pathetic.

‘Your stamina is getting worse, dove,’ Lambert giggles as he pulls up his small clothes. ‘It's been a few minutes and your pulse is still through the roof. You're growing old.’

A burst of drunken laughter, high pitched and soft, slides into the room from the outside.

‘Someone's having a fun night,’ you comment, walking up to the window, pulling your shirt on. You try to change the subject and calm your heart a little. You can't see anyone, the owner of the voice you heard, must have already walked out of view. 

You feel a heavy hand on your shoulder and immediately after that Lambert's body heat right behind you. Your heart doesn't even consider beating slower.

‘I like Novigrad,’ Lambert says, stroking your arm lazily. ‘It's so… raw. And honest. And doesn't even stink that much.’

‘You should see Beauclair,’ you sigh and lean on the window frame. ‘It's beautiful. So colorful. So lively.’

‘Maybe we can go there.’ You are pretty sure he looks at you, but you don’t dare to check. ‘You could show me every back alley we can hide in to make love.’ This time you turn. A mischievous smile crosses his face as you blush under his lewd sight.

‘And then we could even make love in prison after we get arrested for public indecency,’ you laugh, trying to not sink into this warm feeling of safety and stability that his presence imitates.

‘I’m serious.’ Lambert gently strokes your jaw with two fingers, turning your face towards him lightly. ‘I just finished a really good contract. I have a lot of money to spend I want to spend it with you. Let’s go to Beauclair. I promise I will try to limit sleeping on the ground on our way there to a minimum.

Oh, I could sleep on the ground all winter if only you were next to me, you think to yourself.  

‘Since you asked so nicely… Alright,’ you say after a few moments of silence. ‘Let’s go to Toussaint.’

‘Great!’ Lambert puts his arms around your waist and picks you up, spinning you around a little too excitedly. ‘That’s really great, dove.’ He puts you down and crashes his lips on yours. ‘I can’t believe,’ he mumbles between kisses ‘that I will be able to do this every day.’

‘You will be able to do much more.’ You smile against his mouth, cupping his cock with your hand through the thin fabric of underwear. It is hard again.

“Thought you were asleep, woman.” His deep voice was the only noise in the hall.

The wolves must’ve been extremely focused on their card game for it to be so quiet.

“I was for a while.” You moved around the table, curiously eyeing their game. You didn’t understand whatever game it was they were playing, but it looked like Coen was winning. “But I’ve been waiting for you.”

Eskel snickered. A grin came to Geralt’s face as he peered across the table to his brother.

“You hear that, Lambchop?” Coen nodded in your direction. “She’s been waiting for you.”

“Fuck off!” Lambert swatted a hand in Coen’s direction. That furrow in his brow that seemed permanent stayed there as he shifted his gaze to you. “The hell are you waitin’ on me for?”

“It’s cold, and I’d much rather not freeze to death.”

Coen and Eskel cackled like you had just said the funniest thing in the world. Geralt did a better job at hiding his amusement.

“She wants you to keep her warm, wolf!” Eskel hit his hand against the table with enough force to jar the tankards.

You held no shame in letting the wolves know how sweet and kind Lambert was. But you knew Lambert was a difficult man. He didn’t like to show that side of himself, and especially to those who knew him to be a hardass.

The red haired witcher cursed under his breath, rubbing his eyes as his brothers poked fun at him for a few moments.

“I’ll be up in a little bit, woman.”

“I can wait down here–,”

“I said I’ll be up in a little bit.” He cut you off. His tone caught you by surprise, making you take a moment to process what he said.

You adjusted the cloak and took in a breath.

“If you’d like to keep that attitude when you come up, don’t bother coming to bed.”

You turned to walk away, ignoring the rambunctious laughter that echoed through the hall.

Lambert growled, pushing himself to his feet. He followed you quickly, reaching you just as you left the hall.

“I didn’t mean it to sound like that, woman.”

“I know.” You continued down the hall without sparing a glance over your shoulder.

“Then why the hell are you still walking away from me like that?”

“Because at the moment, I just want to go to bed and try to sleep.” You turned to face him. “I came down to see if you’d be coming to bed soon. I didn’t ask that your brothers tease you about anything. You didn’t have to direct that anger on to me.”

“I was just…. I didn’t mean to, bug.”

You looked at him for a few moments, your shoulders slumping as you let out a breath.

“Are you that ashamed of us?” You tilted your head to the side a little.

Lambert shook his head, taking a few steps towards you.

“Hell no, bug. I just…. Sometimes I forget and I’m not used to it all. And the lads, they’re just asswipes about it.”

“Does it bother you that they mess with you?”

“Not really. It’s annoying as fuck, sure. But I’ve dealt with them all my life. They’ve always been like that, the lot of pricks.”

You rubbed your upper arm, nodding softly.

Lambert closed the space between you both, large hands coming up to your arms.

“Think it’s a good time to go to bed.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his beard scratching your skin in a pleasant way.

***

Once you arrived at his room, you took the cloak off and climbed into his bed.

“For fuck’s sake, bug. You should’ve said the fire went out.” Lambert looked at the heart, nudging the barely lit embers with his boot.

“I was going to.”

With a simple sign of igni, flames engulfed the wood once more.

Once his boots were taken off, Lambert clambered into bed with you. But instead of getting in on his side, he climbed over to your side.

“Lambert, what are you–!” You squealed as he let himself fall down on top of you, practically crushing you with his weight.

“M’gonna keep you warm, bug.” He tucked his face into your neck, knowing very well his facial hair would tickle you.

“Lambert!” You tried to push against him, but he was far too heavy. You only succeeded in pushing his arm. “You’re squishing need to death!”

“I wouldn’t do that! I’m keeping you warm.” He turned his head to start kissing your neck.

“I’m tired, Lambert!” You whined. “I want to sleep!”

He grumbled and groaned as he got off of you and settled with lying next to you.

Almost immediately, you buried yourself in his chest.

“You’re so warm.” You buried your nose in the front of his neck.

“Fuck! Your nose is ice cold!”

“I told you I was freezing.” You muttered.

His large arms engulfed you, drawing you in to him even more.

“Good night, bug.”

“Good night, Lambert.”