#vampire!geralt

Always Watching

Clutching the stack of books you hugged them to your chest as you made your way back to your apartment, there was research to do and it was going to be a late night. In the last few weeks things in town had changed, though not to the general population, but the town council had made drastic changes since Sherlock and Geralt had reported back as to what was causing the unrest. People were also starting to go missing, your father included, and after initial futile searches, a crew had been dispatched to the labyrinth of caverns beneath the town. You and Sherlock had led a team, only briefly seeing a glimpse of the beast that lurked, a long purple tentacle the size of your thigh slithering away into the darkness.

Arriving at your place you juggled the books in one arm as you unlocked the door, setting them onto the table before heading back and shutting the door. Settling down to the ancient texts you’d pulled from the vault of the town archives, you started to research a theory that had crept into your mind. As the night went on your fatigue crept in, eventually falling asleep at the small table in your kitchen.

Your dream was vivid; a bright light illuminating crystal blue-green waters, the ebb and flow of water washing over your body. The tip of a tentacle curled across your chest and you realised you were barely dressed, just a flimsy chemise covering your body that was all but transparent. More tentacles appeared from the water, softly wrapping around your calves before climbing to your thighs. The water started to bubble and the curved back of the beast appeared, scaled and dark, before finally it reared its head from the water. There was a haze as you tried to focus, mists swirling around the creature yet through the tendrils of vapour you saw it shift and change, its form morphing into that of a man. His clothes hung in shreds from his shoulders, a wide ceremonial chain draped around his shoulders. The mists cleared and he lowered himself to you, his face inches from your own as he took in the sight of your spread form beneath him, the tentacles still gripping you. Just as he went to speak the vision faded, dissipating like steam out of a window.

Strong arms carried you and you realised you were in your apartment, those same strong arms connected to a firm chest, the scent of Rosemary surrounding you;

“What?... Sherlock?”

“Shhh, I came to drop breakfast over and found you slumped at the table. Were you up all night?”

“I dreamed… I had a dream…” you murmured

“Shhh its ok, get some rest, you can tell me later”

He set you down on your bed, pulling the covers over your body as he watched you drift off to a dreamless sleep, trying to chase the vision you’d had earlier but nothing came.

-

A loud knocking at the door pulled you from the depths of your dreamless sleep, and as you were rising to sit on the side of your bed you heard a grunt and a click, and a familiar hulk was soon standing in the doorway;

“Patience is a virtue Geralt”

“And one i don’t have” He stood in the doorway, one leg crossed over the other, a large garment bag hanging from one fingertip; “Sherlock asked me to drop this off”

“What is it?”

You padded on bare feet to where he stood, unzipping the bag with your tired fingers, Geralt watching as you pulled the gorgeous gown from it;

“Sherlock sent it over. It’s from the archives. For the big celebration ball tonight”

“The ball… OH, that ball.”

You had been so busy with your research you had completely forgotten about the annual ball that the town council and elders would attend. This year you had been invited as Sherlock’s plus one.

“Yes, that ball” Geralt said with a hint of sarcasm but a smirk chasing after it, before he hooked his finger beneath your chin and pulled your face up to look at him; “Are you sure you’re ok? When was the last time you fed?”

“I… err… I had dinner last night? I think Sherlock dropped some breakfast off but I went straight back to sleep…”

“No, not ate; fed”

It took a moment to realise what he meant;

“Oh. It’s been over a week. Sherlock’s been busy”

“Hmmn” was the only reply you got, Geralt setting the dress over a chair before pulling his phone out and dialling and waiting for an answer;

“Yeah it’s me. I’m with her now… uh-huh, yes i dropped the dress off… yup… no idea… Listen, Sherlock, she hasn’t fed in over a week” there was a pause where Geralt listened to his friend speak; “Yes you should have… uh-huh… Are you sure? Ok ok, yeah i’ll do it…ok… yes i’ll make sure she’s there on time…ok, bye.”

Geralt hung up and a smile played on his lips;

“Get on the bed, sweetheart”

“What…?”

He took a step forward and was suddenly crowding your personal space. Hooking a finger under your jaw he pulled your chin up so you were looking directly at him. His lips opened but he didn’t say a word, instead that finger trailed down your neck, pausing on the throbbing vein of your jugular before resting at the low neckline of your t-shirt;

“I said… Get. On. The. Bed”

Your legs shook as you took the few steps back until the backs of your knees met the edge of the bed, Geralt still advancing on you as you fell back onto the messy covers. With lightning fast reflexes the vampire-werewolf hybrid was on his knees and pulling your panties down your legs, before hooking his massive arms around your thighs and pulling your ass to the edge of the mattress. His face was inches from your core and you watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting out a hum of appreciation at your scent, before he pressed his mouth to your centre. 

You squirmed beneath his touch, hands reaching out to push him away;

"Geralt, no… i haven't showered!"

He let out a low growl, glaring at you;

"Woman! Stay still… i can't get enough of your scent…" his eyes glowed gold and you were reminded that he was half werewolf, his instincts even more primal than Sherlock's vampiric nature when added in with being a mix of the both. You couldn't help but to continue your movements and another growl resonated from his throat; "... don't make me fit spreader bars to you"

"You wouldn't…"

A dark smirk played over Geralt's lips;

"Oh, I certainly would… in fact i'll make a note to suggest it to Sherlock, i have a feeling he'd very much enjoy seeing you spread and immobile for us to use as we wish"

With a smirk on his lips he descended back between your thighs, his rough tongue lapping at your core and relishing the way you responded to his ministrations. Soon you were coming on his tongue, a low growl emitting from him between your thighs as he drank down your essence. Your head fell back against the bed as you basked in the glow of energy that surged through you, before you felt Geralt’s hands gripping your hips and suddenly flipping you over;

“You didn’t think we were done yet, did you little succubus?”

“Oh…”

He pulled your hips up until your ass was in the air and that’s when you felt the firm nudge of the thick fleshy tip of his cock push through your folds. Glancing over your shoulder you saw Geralt’s fangs had descended and his lips were curled into a snarl as he thrust forwards and filled your soft cavern completely. 

If it hadn’t been for your previous orgasm you’d probably be screaming the house down, instead the afterglow softened the brutality of his werewolf side taking over, rutting without remorse into you like a wild animal taking its mate. All that was going through your mind was surge after surge of energy that Geralt willingly shared with you, pushing you higher and higher as he reached new depths within your body. Your were blindly reaching back, seeking his touch or to simply feel him, when his large hand caught your wrist and pinned it behind your back. He did the same with the other, holding both your wrists in a tight grip with one hand, before his other hand came down sharply on your ass;

“Woman, i’m gonna keep those hands still until i’m done with you, no squirming with me, i’m not like Sherlock, i’m going to take charge and give you what you need” 

“Yes Geralt… give it to me” you cried out, the pleasure filling your body making tears run down your cheeks. 

Another sharp spank to your behind had you clenching around him, rewarding you with another growl before he only increased his pace again, bringing you to the edge of sanity as you felt yourself starting to go cross eyed from the way he was fucking you so well, a small puddle of drool beneath your mouth on the sheets where you had lost the ability to speak in any form of coherency. 

When you did finally come your eyes rolled back in their sockets, your mouth open in a silent scream as you submitted to the euphoria surging through your soul. Limp and pliable in Geralt’s hands, he pulled you up to kneeling, your back flush with his chest, and as he sank his cock so deep into you for one final time, coating your cervix with his seed, he sank his teeth into your neck and drank from you. But none of this you were aware of, you’d already blacked out.

-

Many hours later you were fed, washed, and dressed in the gown Geralt had dropped off, your body aching in ways you didn’t know were possible. And yet dressed in the blood red gown whilst you ran behind Geralt through the narrow streets of the city, you felt more alive than you ever had before. 

“Come on, move those fancy toes” Geralt growled to you as you struggled to keep up with his long strides

“Hey, you're not the one wearing heels whilst trying to walk on cobblestones… or who’s insides were rearranged repeatedly just a few hours ago”

He stopped and turned, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth;

“Hmmmn” his eyes glinted gold in the evening light as he watched you catch up, before turning and continuing onto the grand hall at the centre of the old walled city.

As the grand hall came into sight you could see Sherlock pacing at the top of the steps, looking suave in a full tuxedo, a stark contrast to Geralt’s all black ensemble of leather jacket, silk shirt, and jeans that clung to his thighs almost illegally. Upon seeing you trotting along still behind Geralt, Sherlock descended the steps and pulled you into his arms;

“You look stunning. I trust Geralt took good care of you?”

“Look at her, she’s fucking glowing” Geralt interrupted; “Of course i took good care of her, might not be satisfied with just you anymore”

Sherlock laughed before pressing a kiss to your cheek, his lips brushing against your ear;

“You look stunning, and i apologise for neglecting you this week my darling, i’ll make it up to you…”

Resting your hand on his firm chest you smiled at him;

“I look forward to it”

His long fingers wrapped around yours and he gently lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, only for Geralt to pointedly clear his throat;

“When you two are done… it’s time to go in”

-

The gala was stunning, held in the sunken catacombs of the old grand hall, it would seem the elders were going to stick to tradition no matter what threat loomed over them, seeking a sense of normalcy just for the night. There were many faces you recognised and even more you didn’t, and after tiring of dancing - taking turns for both Geralt and Sherlock to be your partner - you stood at the edge of the room against the ancient carved stone balustrade of the steps that led down into the waters, sipping on your drink as you watched the crystal clear waters slowly ripple. The music faded out and the mayor stood started to make a speech, and you looked around to find Sherlock or Geralt, finding them both in deep discussion with gruff Constable Marshall. As the major droned on, forced laughter rippling around the cavern it hid the sound of the water rippling behind you, of a dark shadow moving up the steps. The room was cold and a shiver ran over your exposed skin. Your attention moved back to Sherlock who caught your gaze, smiling and nodding before stepping through the crowd, and that was when you felt it.

Looking down your eyes went wide and you dropped your glass, a scream bubbling up from your diaphragm as the long purple tentacle curled around your ankle. The people at the top of the staircase turned just in time to see other tentacles curl around your wrists and neck, before it lifted you and you were dragged into the water.

-

The world came back into view, your vision hazy, and you suddenly realised you needed to expel whatever vile taste was in your mouth, rolling on sandy stone and coughing out the catacomb water. As you shivered on your hands and knees, your soaked dress in tatters, a thick tentacle slithered past and it suddenly shocked you fully awake. With a gasp you turned, trembling as the waters bubbled and a mass of swirling tentacles unfurled. It was then that you realised your dream hadn’t been a dream, it was a premonition;

“No…” you quietly spoke, trying hard to focus on the centre of the mass, the body of the creature forming. When it finally spoke it was if it was speaking through charred remains;

“Still… stay still…”

You shook your head, scrambling backwards until tentacles curled around your ankles and gripped your calves; “STILL!” it commanded, pushing closer to you and that’s when you saw it; the ceremonial chain.

You’d found it in your research, you knew what - or who - this was, you just weren’t sure how he’d gotten that way;

“Ideally when a human first...gives blood,” he began but was interrupted by Jaskier.

“Gets bitten, you mean?” 

Geralt nodded and went on, “there is a third person present to...monitor the process and intervene if necessary.”

“Intervene?” Jaskier asked. His breath had hitched at the word, but Geralt could not smell a whiff of fear.

“Every human is different, the amount of blood, how much can safely be...removed.” He ran his fingers through his hair once more. “It’s not always easy to monitor this during the feeding, for the vampire or the human.”Jaskier nodded and he watched Geralt attentively, still no sign of fear or hesitation.

“And where do you bite them?” Jaskier’s voice sounded a bit hoarse and it sent a shiver down Geralt’s back. He blinked and tried to concentrate on a point above Jaskier’s shoulder.

“The wrist.” 

“Oh,” Jaskier said, “I always thought vampires bite the neck.” Geralt’s gaze snapped to Jaskier’s neck, elegantly curved, and the fucker had the audacity to run his fingers over it. Geralt forcefully looked away.

“Not for the first time and usually not with people you don’t know,” he shrugged. “It can feel very...intimate for the donor.” Jaskier blushed a beautiful shade of pink. As much as he tried, his eyes always wandered back to the bard.

“Just the donor?” Jaskier asked in a low voice.

Geralt blinked and licked his lips, noticing Jaskier’s eyes following the movement. 

Fuck. He should not talk about this. It was not helping his hunger at all. 

But Jaskier’s curiosity was still not sated. He asked, “Does it...hurt?”

Geralt cocked his head and said, “a sting from the first bite, but there is a...venom on vampires teeth. It numbs the pain, soothes anxiety, and it helps to heal the wounds faster after the...feeding.”

Jaskier hummed and looked at him expectantly. Geralt shook his head and turned away. This conversation had gone too far - he needed a distraction. 

“Just so you know,” Jaskier called to him, but Geralt did not turn around, “I wouldn’t mind you biting my neck.” Geralt could hardly suppress a growl. He grabbed a book and pretended to read, ignoring the bard as best he could. His patience was so fucking thin. 

-

“Fuck, Jaskier,” Geralt growled and pushed him away. The bard had wandered over and leaned across Geralt to reach for another book, baring his pale neck seemingly accidentally in front of Geralt’s face.

“What?” Jaskier asked innocently, but that did not convince the vampire.

“I know what you’re doing and it will not work.” He was not quite sure if he said this to discourage the bard or to convince himself, because the urge to sink his fangs into the white skin had been overwhelming for a second.

Jaskier looked him deep in the eyes and said softly, “Please Geralt, let me help you.”

Geralt shook his head and groaned.

He closed his eyes and said so quietly he was not sure Jaskier would hear, “Not like this.”

But the bard did hear him. He cupped Geralt’s face with his hand in a featherlight touch and said, “Then how?” Just for a moment Geralt enjoyed the touch before he reached for Jaskier’s hand, dropped it and took a step back - not a dismissal, but he needed the distance to think for a moment. 

Maybe Jaskier was right. If he was not able to feed soon, he was forced to leave in a probably fruitless search for blood. 

“If…”Geralt said, “we were to do this…” stopping Jaskier with a stern look,” if we were to do this, then we would need to take precautions.”

The bard exhaled with relief and nodded. “Anything, my dear.”

“We would stand, so you could notice sooner if you’re getting lightheaded - an indicator that we would need to stop.” Geralt was looking at the bard intensely, making sure he was listening to him.

“And you would need to hold a silver dagger to my stomach.” Jaskier opened his mouth to protest but Geralt quickly went on, “just to stop me if I would get...too distracted.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes and whispered, “But I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Geralt shook his head. How could Jaskier be thinking about that when he was the one who would end up with fangs in his neck, if they were to do this? Stupidly softhearted bard. “You won’t seriously harm me as long as you don’t stab it into my heart,” Geralt said, tapping his chest, “and if everything goes as planned, you won’t need to use it.” Fuck, was he really considering doing this - biting the bard that smelled so overwhelmingly delicious?

“How much will you...would you drink?” Jaskier asked. 

“Not much, it would be over soon, not longer than a minute.” They stared at each other.

Jaskier nodded after a while. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” Geralt asked.

“Let’s do it then.”

Geralt balled his hands into fists. “Jaskier, if I hurt you, I could...never forgive myself.”

The bard breathed in deeply. “You won’t hurt me,” he whispered, “that’s what the precautions are for.”

Geralt swallowed and finally nodded once. He could hear Jaskier exhale and looked at him.

“Should I wash my wrist first?” the bard asked softly, “or my neck?”

Geralt’s gaze fixed on his neck and he shook his head. “You don’t need to do that.”

Jaskier took a step towards him. “Will you bite my neck?” he asked. Geralt’s pupils had blown wide and he was sure he could see the blood pumping through his veins under the pale skin.

“Would that be…?”

“Yes,” Jaskier answered. 

“Are you really sure?” Geralt asked.

“Yes.” No hesitation, no fear.

-

Geralt placed the hilt of the silver dagger in Jaskier’s hand and closed his fingers around it. When the bard let it sink, Geralt reached for it again and guided the tip against his belly.

Geralt let go when he was confident that Jaskier wouldn’t move the dagger away and looked him deep in the eyes. “Grab my shoulder with your other hand,” he instructed. “If you feel lightheaded, if it hurts or you need me to stop for any reason, just tap my shoulder.” Jaskier reached for his shoulder and tabbed it twice to show he understood. “Are you really sure that you want to do this?” Geralt asked softly.

Jaskier’s cheeks were flushed and he inhaled audibly before he breathed, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Carefully Geralt placed his hand on Jaskier’s cheek and said, “You don’t have to do this.”

He could see Jaskier Addam’s apple bob as he swallowed. 

“I know,” Jaskier’s voice was barely audible, “but I want to.”

Geralt could feel him leaning into the touch, lightly pressing his cheek into Geralt’s palm, stretching and exposing his neck at the same time. 

“Okay,” Geralt whispered and stroked his thumb over Jaskier’s cheekbone. Jaskier’s eyes fluttered shut, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. Slowly the vampire leaned forward and inhaled Jaskier’s scent. His nostrils flared and his mouth watered. He was still surprised that there was not a whiff of fear, just Jaskier’s warm, soft and familiar scent. The urge to sink his fangs into his neck was overwhelming, so he drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. 

Then he asked, “ready?”

He could feel Jaskier nod and heard him whisper “Yes”.

Slowly he leaned forward the rest of the way and softly pressed his lips to Jaskier’s neck. He could feel him shudder and the grip of Jaskier’s hand on his shoulder tightening. The tip of the dagger at his belly reminded Geralt to stay in control. He could feel the bard’s pulse beating against his lips. Geralt closed his eyes and set his teeth carefully against Jaskier’s soft neck and finally let them sink into his flesh.

-

Jaskier gasped as the sharp fangs pierced his skin. He felt a short stinging pain, but then a calming warmth spread through his body. Faintly he heard a clang of something falling to the floor and in the next moment he wrapped his arms around Geralt, instinctively pulling him closer. It was overwhelming. Geralt’s lips on his neck, his breath ghosting over the exposed skin, the strange but weirdly pleasurable sensation of Geralt sucking at his neck. He needed to feel him everywhere. Jaskier pressed his body against Geralt’s, hips bucking forward and a soft moan escaped his lips as he felt a hardness between Geralt’s legs pressing at his own hips. One of Geralt’s hands had wandered up to the back of his head, holding him steady. Jaskier’s mind was clouded, surrounded by Geralt’s scent and arms and lips. He was not sure where he ended and Geralt began, and it was an indescribable feeling, like melting together to be one. He wanted to live in this moment forever.

-

With a sudden jerk Geralt drew his head back as he felt Jaskier sag in his arms. 

“Shit, Jaskier,” he said and tried to steady him. He saw that his eyes were half shut, a relaxed expression on his face. Geralt swore as his foot bumped against the dagger that lay on the floor. Shit, shit, shit, he hadn’t noticed Jaskier dropping it. How long had he been drinking? All his control had vanished the moment Jaskier’s blood had hit his tongue. It had not just been his hunger that let his instincts take over, but also the taste of the blood, familiar like the bard’s scent but also so much more. It was the condensed essence of what the bard was, his golden laughter, his unending imagination, the sparkle in his blue eyes, the timbre of his voice, the spring in his step. 

The bard was humming softly, head rolling to the side. Geralt saw that the bite wound was already closing, only a single red drop was slowly running down his neck. Geralt had the urge to lick it away, but with a swift movement he lifted Jaskier up and carried him over to the bed. Relief washed over him as he felt Jaskier’s pulse to be steady and strong. The bard looked pale, paler than usual but he seemed to...smile softly and his hand made a grabbing motion, so Geralt took it into his. 

“Jaskier,” he said in a raspy voice, stroking the bard’s cheek with his knuckles. Jaskier leaned into the touch and smiled, eyes still shut. “Jaskier, look at me,” Geralt said.

Slowly the bard’s blue eyes fluttered open. “Geralt,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said, but Jaskier shook his head and squeezed his hand.

“No,” he replied. Geralt frowned. “No feeling sorry.” His words were a bit slurred. He tugged at Geralt’s hand and said slowly, “Come lay down with me. It’s impolite not to snuggle your bard after you feasted on him.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows, cleared his throat and asked, “How do you feel?”

“No,” Jaskier replied more forcefully, “first cuddle, then questions.” Geralt tried to stand up but Jaskier clung to his hand. “No,” he whined.

“I’m just going to get you something to eat and drink,” the vampire replied, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“And then cuddling?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt sighed loudly but said, “Okay.” With a content smile the bard let go of his hand.

After Geralt had made him eat a bowl of stew and drink a glass of water, the vampire climbed into bed and pulled him to his chest. Jaskier snuggled against him, burying his face in Geralt’s neck. 

“How do you feel?” Geralt asked again.

“Good,” Jaskier replied and Geralt could feel him grin against his neck, “really good. We should do this more often. I could be your blood slut.” He giggled and Geralt rolled his eyes. He tucked a strand of brown curls behind Jaskier’s ear and looked at the two round puncture marks. “Will it leave a scar?” Jaskier asked when he felt Geralt’s fingertips trace the still red marks.

“It will be barely visible,” Geralt replied.

“Then you have to bite me again.” Geralt only hummed, trying to ignore the urge to do just that. 

They spent the next few hours snuggled up in bed, Geralt frequently checking the bite marks but they were healing nicely. Jaskier drifted in and out of sleep, eating and drinking what Geralt held in front of him and happily babbling about what came to his mind. Geralt knew that these were side effects of giving blood and the vampire venom, especially when someone was not used to it. But Geralt was not complaining. The edge of his hunger had been taken off. It was not totally gone, but he could enjoy holding the bard in his arms without the overwhelming urge to bite him. 

“Now tell me, my dear,” the bard asked, “how did I taste?” Geralt huffed and pulled him closer, ignoring how his mouth watered at the question. 

“I’m sure I taste delicious,” he said and Geralt just hummed, silently agreeing. Jaskier had tasted like he had been...made for him. Every human and animal tasted different, some more and some less to his liking, but he had never drank from someone who had tasted so overwhelmingly good. Maybe it had not been so bad to get snowed in with him after all.

“Did you...drink enough?” Jaskier asked after a while, looking up into Geralt’s eyes. The vampire licked his lips as he eyed him closely.

“Yes,” he said, and when Jaskier frowned unconvinced he added, “for now.” Jaskier grinned, snuggled up to him once more and said, “I’m right here if you wanna drink more.”

-

Link to my masterlist for more of my writing 

The Watched

Sitting in the town council meeting you cracked your neck side to side, hearing the bones click and let out a quiet satisfied grunt as the tension that had been building at the base of your skull dissipated. Your eyes travelled to the council sitting behind the long table on the raised stage, suppressing a smile as your gaze landed on the man responsible for your spine being out of alignment. 

As if on cue, Sherlock caught your gaze, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he composed himself and returned his attention back to the Mayor and the rest of the town council as they discussed the growing unrest and situation within the area.

“The factions are growing further apart!” the mayor argued, frustrated that the vampires and other non-humans were rejecting Watcher rule.

A murmur of agreement stirred around the room, you became aware of the seat next to you being taken, but didn’t pay it any attention as at the moment Sherlock cleared his throat and started to speak;

“Mr Mayor” the room silenced almost immediately, Sherlock had that type of commanding tone; “This council has always been in place to ensure the town works together, your grandfather appointed me to the council…”

“Yes we all know you’re old Mr Holmes” the Mayor interrupted

“Then perhaps you should actually listen to your elders” Sherlock snapped back, his tone immediately darker. A few hushed mutters sounded in the room where it had surprised and added a little fear into some of the attendee’s, however it had sent a delicious shiver through your body, and you fought to hide the moan that threatened to quietly escape from your throat.

As Sherlock continued and started to explain how he had called upon other elders to return to the town, the person next to you leant in close and whispered in your ear;

“He gets off on bossing people around, doesn’t he?”

Turning quickly, you took in the owner of the deep voice; how you hadn’t spotted the behemoth of a man entering the room or even noticed him once he’d been in his seat surprised you, and even sitting he towered over you. Skin as pale as fresh cut pine, eyes as yellow as citrine. His black leather biker jacket did little to hide the powerful muscles beneath, and the tiniest curl of grey hair peeked out from beneath the black woolen hat he wore. He grinned at you and you saw his teeth, elongated canines flanked by undescended fangs. There was only one person this could be. Sure he could sense your nervousness at being so close, you swallowed the saliva that had gathered on your tongue before holding your hand out, which he grasped firmly as you spoke;

“Pleased to finally meet you Geralt”

You didn’t fail to notice the edge of the tattoo on the back of his wrist, the inked wolf a warning that should be heeded.

-

The bar was noisy, and yet Sherlock had somehow managed to find a curved booth at the back where the three of you had squeezed in and were able to have a conversation. Flanked on both sides by these huge men, Sherlock properly introduced you to Geralt, someone who up until then you had only known of from stories you’d heard. 

Half Vampire, Half Werewolf, Geralt was older than anyone in the town, and where Sherlock commanded respect with his seniority, Geralt was feared. He came from a time before the factions were civil, when other now long gone creatures roamed the darkness looking for a meal that would fail to run fast enough.

The waitress set the drinks onto the table; large Scotch for Sherlock, a pint of Guinness for Geralt, and a Irish cream hot cocoa for yourself. Wrapping your hands around the warm glass you let the heat soothe your aching hands, letting out a hum of comfort. Geralt leaned in close and spoke quietly, but ensured that Sherlock could hear;

“Tell him you need a leather padded grip on the headboard, it’ll be easier on your hands the next time”

“Geralt” Sherlock warned 

“Oh shut up Sherlock, i know you two are fucking, i can smell you on her”

Geralt's words surprised you, causing you to knock your drink over. A sudden click of fingers from Geralt had your booth going silent, the drink being held mid air like a resin sculpture, before with a slow flick of his wrist Geralt righted the glass and the drink retracted back into its vessel.

Sherlock cleared his throat;

“If you’re done with the parlour tricks Geralt? We both know you could level this building with a simple wriggle of your nose”

The grey haired man laughed quietly, before taking a drink of his beer;

“Ok, I'll stop scaring your pet. Although it is a lot of fun…” he paused; “I can see why you chose her”

The conversation calmed after that point, the two men discussing how factions were unrestful and anxious, how there was something disrupting the natural order of things and it seemed to be both ancient and new from the energies they could pick up.

As the evening grew later your tiredness increased, what started with Sherlock’s arm around your shoulder, ending with you quietly snoring against his chest, a small patch of drool growing on his polo shirt.

“Come on Darling” Sherlocks deep voice pulled you from your sleep; “I’ll get you back to your apartment before i venture out to investigate with Geralt”

At your doorway you clung to Sherlock’s jacket, his goodnight kiss turning you weak at the knees;

“Are you sure you need to go do stuff with Geralt?” you whined, tired and slightly drunk

With a low laugh Sherlock swatted at your ass, glancing to the corner of the street where Geralt was impatiently waiting for him to see you inside so they could get on their way;

“Yes, I'm sure, Darling. Now be a good girl and get inside”

With one last kiss you turned and made your way up the steps to your front door, giving him a wave before stepping inside. 

Geralt was standing next to Sherlock in an instant, silent on his feet and quicker than the eye could see;

“I’m surprised you haven’t fed from her yet”

They started along the alleyway as Sherlock smirked and threw a side glance to Geralt;

“Oh, i have”

Geralt stopped and rested a hand on Sherlocks forearm;

“From the neck?”

“Of course… well, some other places too, but yes from the neck”

“She… she shows no signs. Watchers, Acceptors, any humans, they’ll show signs, scars”

“I know”

Geralt raised an eyebrow;

“Does she know?”

Sherlock shook his head;

“She’s unaware of the power she holds. She’s convinced she heals so quickly because of me”

“Sherlock… she’s not human”

By now they’d crested the hill the town sat on, the old city wall now artfully ruined with ivy growing up it;

“She’s half human. Her mother never told her father that she isn’t his”

“What is she?”

Sherlock took a deep breath;

“She’s what’s going to save us”

-

You woke with a sudden jump, the night still dark as you clung to your pillow, confused as to what had woken you. That was until you heard the clumsy dragging of footsteps in your hallway. You were on your feet and scrambling for the metal trunk under your bed, finding the gun you’d been charged with as a Watcher, the one that held mahogany wood bullets infused with silver nitrite. No matter what they hit, they’d harm if not kill the intended target. On bare feet you silently stepped into the wallway, your toe coming into contact with a thick warm liquid on the floor. You bent down to inspect it as the kitchen light was switched on, and a familiar bulk formed a shadow in the doorway;

“You need to come quickly, he needs you” Geralt’s words were urgent, tinged with an undercurrent of what could only be described as fear.

In an instant you were in the kitchen, your hand flying to your mouth when you saw Sherlock slumped on the small wooden chair that sat at the equally small table. He held his arm across his chest, a wound bleeding just short of profusely on his shoulder;

“Sherlock! What happened?!”

He winced as you ran to him, your hands grabbing the fresh dish towel you’d laid out that day and pressing it to his wound, before Geralt appeared beside you and gently teased the gun from your free hand;

“Let's set this aside, shall we?” he flicked on the safety and returned to your side; “We found what was causing the unrest”

“What was it?”

“An abomination”

“Did you kill it?”

Sherlock opened his eyes and let out a shaky breath;

“No”

You pressed the towel to his shoulder, yet it didn’t seem to be stemming the flow.

“He’s weak” Geralt explained; “He lost a lot of blood. He needs you”

Nodding you moved, straddling Sherlock's lap and moving your head so his face was near your neck. Cradling the back of his head you helped him, but he let out a whine;

“I can’t… my teeth won’t descend”

Geralt stooped down behind you, his face close to yours;

“This can happen when a vampire has lost too much blood, if you want to help me save him, you need to let me open a wound”

Nodding you turned, but Geralt caught your head and moved you to look away from him. You heard the growl and out of the corner of your eyes you could see Geralt’s mouth, a sea of sharp white points, before you screwed your eyes shut and felt him pierce your skin. It hurt so much more than Sherlock’s bite did.

The pain lasted just a few seconds, yet felt like an eternity before Geralt pulled away with a growl and pushed you towards Sherlock, his other hand gripping the back of Sherlock’s head and pushing the two of you together, as if he was trying to get an infant to latch onto its mothers breast, but in this instance it was to save a life rather than simply for sustenance. As Sherlock started to feed you gripped onto his shoulders, and the more he drank the slower his shoulder bled, until you could see the wound starting to heal. 

He pulled away with a gasp, a little more colour in his cheeks, his hand gripping your hip now rather than just resting on it;

“That’s enough for now”

“I agree” Geralt added; “You both need your rest”

Climbing off of Sherlock’s lap, you watched as Geralt helped him to his feet, wrapping his arm around his massive shoulders;

“Bedroom?” he questioned

“Follow me”

As you made your way along the hallway you slipped in the blood that was on the floor, Geralt quickly shooting his other arm out and catching you before you fell on your ass;

“I’ll get that before i leave”

Hopping through the doorway you grabbed a towel to clean your foot as Geralt helped his friend to lay on your bed, Sherlock settling with a grunt before turning back to you;

“I’ll be back in the morning, keep him safe”

You climbed onto your bed beside Sherlock and sat with your back to the headboard, Sherlock curling up against you with his head on your lap. As you ran your fingers through his hair he was asleep within seconds, but your mind continued to race long after you’d heard Geralt leave; What was going on? Why had Geralts bite hurt so much more than Sherlock’s did? And why was your neck still healing? These questions plagued your mind until the sky started to lighten, and it was only then that sleep finally took you.

-

The sound of your door clicking shut startled you awake, before a deep voice reassured you;

“It’s only me, don’t bother with the gun” Geralt appeared at the doorway to your bedroom, a large paper bag under his arm bearing the name of the patisserie that made the sweetest delights; “I brought you breakfast… and we need to talk… all three of us”

Sherlock murmured as he rolled onto his back, letting out a huff of pain as he rested on his shoulder.

By the time you got to your kitchen Geralt had made a pot of coffee and was opening cupboards blindly;

“Mugs?”

“Bottom left” you replied as you peered into bag he’d left on the table

“Hey, keep your nose out of there” Geralt instructed firmly, to which you jumped back.

Sitting quietly on one of the chairs, Sherlock sat next to you;

“What’s going on Geralt?” he questioned as the grey haired man set three mugs of coffee down in front of you.

“We need to have a talk about your girl here”

“Me?!”

Geralt pulled up the small three step and sat on it in the absence of a third chair;

“So you come from a family of Watchers, right?”

“Yes”

“Okay, so some of these questions are going to be very personal, but whatever you say stays in this room”

“Geralt, what’s going on?” Sherlock questioned, but Geralt just glanced at him before continuing to question you.

“Sherlock is your first non-human lover you’ve had, correct?”

“Yes”

“And past human lovers left you unsatisfied?”

“Yes, I don't see where…”

“It’ll all make sense soon” he interrupted; “And you’re the kind of person to enjoy a party or celebration? With lots of happy people in the same room?”

“Yes, of course, doesn’t everyone like parties?”

“Not everyone, but that’s not the point. When you were a child, if you injured yourself, do you have any scars from that?”

“No, i always healed really well”

“And no scars or marks from Sherlock’s bites?”

“No, but that’s his saliva, it helps heal me”

Geralt sat back, his hands on his knees;

“Vampires can do that, but not to the extent of zero scars”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s something about you, and this may be hard to accept, but you’re not fully human”

“What?”

Finally Sherlock spoke;

“I’ve never spoken about how i knew your parents before you were born, but almost a year before your mother gave birth to you, there was another presence in the town”

“What? What was it?”

“An Incubus”

A silence fell over the room where you tried to take in what Geralt had just said before you tried to make sense of it;

“I… What… How… So you're saying my father isn’t my father? That my mother cheated?”

“No, not cheated”

“So I'm the product of…”

“NO. When Incubi end up breeding, it's completely by accident, usually because they have felt a connection with the human they are visiting. The human is usually lonely, in an unhappy situation. But they can cloud judgement because of the pleasure they give out as well”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent” Geralt confirmed.

Sherlock cleared his throat;

“The year you were born, your father was in active service, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he was on his last tour”

“And when were you born?”

“New Years Eve”

“And when did his tour end?”

“He was there for the entire pregnancy, from Easter”

“Which was mid April” Geralt added; “8 Months… a human pregnancy is…”

“9 Months… unless a child comes premature”

“You were full term, weren’t you?”

“I… i believe so” you stood up quickly; “Listen, pregnancies aren’t an exact science! Sure, I didn't get on with my Dad, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t father me!”

Geralt sat back as did Sherlock, but it was Sherlock that spoke;

“The wound on your neck, from Geralt’s bite, it still hasn’t healed yet has it?”

You reached to your neck and touched the tender wound;

“No, but he’s not fully a vampire, right?”

“That doesn’t matter” Sherlock stood, wincing as he did before he stood in front of you; “Every time i’ve bitten you, fed from you, its been during sex, hasn’t it?”

You nodded as he continued

“And you’ve always orgasmed”

“Yes”

“And i bet you rarely did with your human lovers”

You glared at Sherlock;

“What are you saying?”

“You heal when you are able to pull energy from other people. Not just me, you would heal from anyone giving you pleasure”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Then tell me why you haven’t healed since last night? There’s no difference between my bite and Geralt’s bite”

“I would disagree… he has a whole lot more teeth”

At that Geralt flashed a dark smile, but Sherlock continued;

“Its not my saliva that completely heals you to the point of no scarring. You’ve seen the skin of Acceptors, they have scars once they are fully healed. The saliva only closes the wound. You haven’t healed because we didn’t make love last night”

“Sherlock that’s complete bullshit”

Sherlock’s expression turned dark, his nostrils flared. This was the first disagreement you’d had and the tension in the room was palatable. It broke when Geralt spoke;

“I know how to prove this” you both turned to him; “Make her cum whilst she watches her wound in a mirror”

“Good idea”

Sherlock grabbed your arm and winced, pulling his hand back and glaring at the bruises that still patterned it from the events of the previous night, before turning to Geralt;

“C’mon, you’re helping, both my hands are out of action until i feed some more and heal”

Geralt stood and somehow ushered you into your bedroom until you were standing in front of the long mirror. The man dwarfed you, standing at your back he shrugged off his jacket and revealed a sleeveless white t-shirt underneath, his enormous arms patterned with intricate tattoos. One hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush with his chest, however the other sat on the front of your hip, drawing circles against the lace trim of your panties that were just visible beneath the t-shirt you wore to bed.

You glanced to Sherlock who was standing next to the mirror, one arm cradled in another and a dark look on his face;

“Sherlock?”

“Let Geralt do it, you’re obviously still pissed at me”

Glaring at him you were interrupted by cool fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear, and your attention was rapidly brought back to your reflection in the mirror. You were unable to look away as you watched Geralt reach further and seek out your folds, running his finger through the natural slick that had gathered there, before rubbing harsh circles against your clit;

“Oh fuck…”

Where Sherlock was a firm but gentle lover, it would seem Geralt went for the rougher approach, going straight for the prize. In the mirror you looked up and saw that his eyes were now dark, almost black, and a wicked grin spread over his face as he saw you watching him;

“Keep your eyes on the prize little Succubus, i’m gonna make you cum so hard i might tempt you away from your boyfriend there”

You looked at Sherlock who simply cocked an eyebrow as he continued to watch, a smirk threatening to tug at the corner of his mouth but he fought it and remained neutral. 

As if annoyed by the fact your attention had been drawn away from him, Geralt increased his efforts, this time letting his mouth trace patterns over the side of your neck that was without injury, grazing the tips of his teeth against your shoulder as his fingers so expertly worked against your clit until you started to shake;

“G-Geralt…”

“Keep your eyes open”

“Its too… it’s too good…”

“EYES OPEN” he snapped; “Or i stop…”

“NO, don’t stop” your hips were bucking in time to his fingers, you could feel the orgasm building before it finally crested. Your eyes were so close to shutting but suddenly Geralt’s other hand moved from your waist to your jaw, holding your head to the side so you could see your neck and how his bite from the night before started to heal completely. You stood limp in Geralt’s arms, his own breathing laboured as you realised you had been feeding off of his energy too. You hadn’t noticed Sherlock move until he was starting to lift your leg as he knelt in front of you, hooking your knee over his uninjured shoulder. 

Resting back against Geralt’s solid chest you watched as Sherlock ripped your panties from you, never taking into account how suddenly he had the power to do so when just ten minutes before he hadn’t been able to touch you, no, that thought was lost in the fog as you felt his tongue run a thick stripe through your folds, his beard rubbing against your inner thighs as he drank your essence.

“What? What’s going on?” You murmured

“Shhh, let him do it” Geralt reassured you; “You need to be stronger so he can feed from you and heal”

This time you did close your eyes, your head rolling back against Geralt’s shoulder as Sherlock ate you out, driving you wild with his skilled tongue and that tantalizing touch of sharp teeth against your softest flesh. Still sensitive from the orgasm Geralt gave you, it didn’t take you long to reach your peak again, crying out your release against Sherlock’s mouth as your head swam from the energy flowing into you. 

Sherlock quickly pulled away, his voice deep and hoarse;

“Hold her up” he commanded and you felt Geralt’s strong arms wrap around your torso as Sherlock stood and undid his jeans, his hardness springing free as he wrapped your legs around his waist and thrust into you.

“OH… fuck…” you cursed. Even after two orgasm’s Sherlock’s size was still a shock, thrusting in quickly until he was fully sheathed within you, before he set off at a brutal pace, fucking into your plyable body as his oldest friend held you immobile like a fuck doll for Sherlock to use for his own pleasure. 

Sherlock had a dark smile on his face, his hips pistoning to fill you repeatedly, and even though you’d just had two intense orgasm’s you could feel a third starting to build;

“That’s it my Darling, cum for me so i can feed from you”

His smirk now showed his pearl white fangs, dipping your head to the side you could feel your body aching for its final release, and as he pierced the flesh of your neck you screamed out your release whilst he drank from you. 

In the moments afterwards the pair of you were breathless, before he pulled his mouth from you and pressed a single kiss to your lips, your bodies still joined elsewhere. You felt the pair of arms holding you arm start to pull away, before Sherlock reached out and grabbed the front of Geralt’s t-shirt;

“You’re not going anywhere”

A quiet chuckle could be heard behind you but you were confused;

“Sherlock? What’s going on?”

“We need you for this fight, and we need you stronger than ever. This isn’t over yet” he paused before looking over your shoulder to his friend; “Plus he’s been hiding his injury from last night well, but Geralt need’s to feed too”

Nodding you found yourself being literally man handled to the bed, now two mouths finding soft parts of your body to press kisses to as more clothing was discarded across the floor. 

Geralt landed on your bed with a low laugh, and you let out a squeal as Sherlock turned and lifted you to straddle his friend’s lap. Geralt wrapped his large palm around the back of your neck and pulled you down for a fierce kiss, before his other hand gripped onto your hip and he thrust into you. Your hole was no doubt well lubricated thank’s to Sherlock’s spend, and it didn’t seem to matter what so ever to Geralt he was fucking into you where his friend had been just minutes before, in fact any rational thought was gone from your own mind too as Geralt didn’t hold back and defiled your body in the most pleasurable of ways.

You broke the kiss and pushed yourself up to ride him, working your hips as he grabbed at your breasts, his thumbs working over your hardened nipples as you cried out in pleasure. Suddenly you became aware of Sherlock behind you, his firm chest pressing to your back as you slowed your ride, his hand dipping between your thighs;

“Ride him slowly my Darling”

Putting a roll into your hips you let out a cry of surprise when Sherlock was able to slide two fingers inside you alongside Geralt’s throbbing shaft, massaging your perineum. For a long few minutes the three of you grunted and sighed between the tightness and the stretch, before Sherlock deemed you ready and withdrew his fingers. You felt him rest the tip of his cock at your stretched entrance and you looked over your shoulder;

“Sherlock? Are you sure you won’t hurt me?”

“I’m sure. We’ve done this before”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, but his dark grin told you that you were in safe hands. Geralt gripped your shoulder and pulled you down to his lips, kissing you deeply as Sherlock slowly pushed in beside Geralt who swallowed your scream.

For the longest moment the two men simply held you as your body fought then accepted their dual presence, and then they started to fluidly move. The stimulation was incredible, the stretch and rub inside you, filled with these two virle men’s cocks at the same time you were floating on a euphoria that couldn’t be replicated. As thrusts got harder and deeper everyone was chasing their release, and as you felt your orgasm approaching you were lost in the moment until you heard both men roar, Geralt baring his fangs and canines, his eyes black as he sank his teeth into your neck, before seconds later Sherlock doing the same with the other side of your neck. As the free of you reached your peak together you fed off of each other, the two monsters of men that surrounded you drinking your blood as you in turn fed from their energy before the world went black around you.

“Darling?” Sherlock’s voice was soft, caring, and it brought you from the fog of your euphoria.

“Yeah?” you whispered, your voice hoarse from screaming

“Oh good, we didn’t kill you” Geralt commented, before pressing a kiss to your naked breast.

You were still sandwiched between these two huge men; your boyfriend and his best friend. Sherlock was the first to move, carefully pulling out of you and you could feel the first wave of spend run from your used hole, he in turn helping you off Geralt before laying you on the bed between them.

“Wow” you muttered, staring up at the ceiling. You felt energised and ready to take on the world.

“Are you ok my Darling?”

You turned to Sherlock and smiled;

“It's been an intense morning”

Geralt let out a low belly laugh;

“You could say that”

As if on cue your stomach rumbled;

“Didn’t you bring pastries?”

Geralt swung his legs over the side of the bed;

“I did. I’ll put a new pot of coffee on too”

You both watched Geralt’s naked ass as he left the room, before you hooked a thumb at him as you spoke to Sherlock;

“You know, he can come visit any time he likes” you said with a grin

Sherlock laughed;

“You think that was all Geralt could give? Darling, you don’t even get all i can give, you couldn’t handle Geralt”

He pulled you to his chest and moments later Geralt appeared with three mugs of coffee and the bag of pastries dangling from his mouth. Handing them out you and Sherlock leant against the headboard as Geralt sat at the foot of the bed, the bag of pastries discreetly placed between his legs as you all ate in silence.

“So, what exactly did you two go up against last night? What is this creature that’s threatening the town?”

Sherlock looked at Geralt who swallowed and finally spoke;

“A dragon kraken”

“A what what?”

“Dragon kraken. Lives in the network of caves beneath the town. Tentacles, scales, breathes fire”

“Oh. Oh great” you said sarcastically; “Gonna have to build up my energy for that then”

Sherlock and Geralt shared a glance, dark smiles tugging at their mouths;

“Good,” they said in unison. The shiver then ran down your spine signaling that you would be gaining a lot more energy, very very soon.