#witcher angst

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Geralt was going to tear whoever did this to you to pieces. He would gouge their eyes out and make them eat them. 

That was just one of the thoughts that rang through his mind as he cradled you in his arms, your nose bleeding onto his now naked torso, the shirt you had torn off of him a mere moment ago nearly in the fire. 

This was not supposed to be how this happened, this wasn’t supposed to happen at all. He had made himself stay away for this exact reason, everything he loved was destroyed. 

The witcher had always been against you joining the group. 

You had been a brothel worker when you came upon Jaskier six months ago, walking the streets with achy legs from a long shift, smelling of the salt water you had bathed in when you saw a group of men holding him up and beating on him. 

A yell had crossed your lips and without thinking you picked up a log near your feet, launching at the men and swinging anywhere you could to scare them off, hitting a couple of them harshly before they finally scampered away leaving you standing in the mud with a log and the poor fool laying bloody and beaten on the ground. 

You had brought him to your tiny rooms at the brothel, helped him clean up and soon enough he was asking you to join them. You hesitated for a moment, watching him use one of your rags to dot at the cuts along his face before shrugging. 

Anything is better than the life of a brothel worker, right?

Wrong. 

Brothels didn’t have the annoying attitude of Geralt the fucking Witcher. Okay well some did since Jaskier admitted to Geralt being a frequent guest of them, but you had never seen him and you wished you never met him either. 

He spent every waking moment snapping at you, or blatantly ignoring you when you were trying to ask questions. It was either you didn’t exist or everything you did was wrong, and you could never figure out why the way he treated you bothered you so fucking much. 

Men had done far worse to you in that brothel, but Geralt giving you the cold shoulder nearly brought you to tears? What?

Then again none of the men that came to the brothel were like Geralt at all. None of them had those melting golden eyes or the firm touch of a protector, none of them could turn a sword in their hands the way he does or make anyone feel at ease in his presence. 

Well……anyone but you. 

Maybe he knew you had feelings for him, maybe he hated your guts. Many reasons why he never wanted to talk to you filled your head and none of them were good. 

You spent your days obsessing over a man that barely glanced back at you, your horse in the back of the group with Jaskier always a force between you both. 

Geralt takes a moment to tie the corset of your dress so you weren’t exposed before pulling you into his arms and laying you on his bed, moving to grab a cloth from the basin in the corner of the inn room. 

When he returns to your side he takes a chance to slide the hair from your face, swiping the damp cloth along the blood trail your nose left in soft strokes as he watches you sleep. He would make sure you were breathing and comfortable before he went out and broke some limbs. 

It had been six months of that behavior, and it was truly beginning to wear you down. 

The days were spent either passive aggressively ignoring him back for scoffing at any mistake of yours he pointed out. Today was a passive aggressive silent game. 

He had woken you up by snapping in your face and the months of travel and anger were beginning to catch up so you had slapped his hand out of your face, watching a small amount of shock fill his face before his eyes narrowed in anger. 

“You overslept….again.” In the beginning you would have a snarky retort, something mocking his breath or face, but now you merely rolled your eyes and turned your back to him as you packed up your bedroll. He doesn’t seem to understand your silent game since he tries to piss you off once more. “We are going to be behind if you keep sleeping like this.”

It would be so easy to turn around and tell him to shove off, but then he would know he had that effect so you simply picked you belongings up, fixed your boots and walked to the horses where Jaskier sat atop his own. 

The bard gives you a knowing look as you mount your own horse after fixing everything onto it, legs swinging with a natural ease and a slight warmth on your thigh. When you look down you see Geralt's hand placed on it, and you realize he had helped you up. “Are you angry with me? Or have you lost your voice?”

“Just matching the treatment given to me.” You snark, a feeling of pride in your chest when you see him all but snarl. You kick the horse into gear after that, this time taking the lead as his hand slips from your thigh and he rushes to Roach. 

By the time he catches up he makes Roach walk alongside your horse, his face furious. “The treatment I gave you?”

You hum out, moving to speed up your horse but Geralt is too quick, within moments he has the reins of your horse in his hand, pulling on them until you are close enough for your thighs to touch. 

“Answer me.”

You hum again, your heartbeat rising and you wonder if he can hear it when his eyes cast down to your chest before looking back at you. 

“Humming is not an answer.”

You hum once more, moving to snatch the reins but his hand reaches out to grab your jaw. “I need to hear your voice.”

You slap his hand away once more and snatch the reins, giving him a glare before moving forward. 

“I don’t understand.” He grunted to Jaskier later that day, fixing his travel pack on roach as the bard leans against the same post the horses were tied to. You had gone to the market to grab some necessities and when Geralt demanded to go with you he had been met with another empty hum and Jaskier had told him to back down. 

“She’ll avoid attention if she isn’t traveling with a witcher, not to mention she knows how to bargain for cheaper prices when she isn’t flanked by your glare.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He growls, watching the bard smirk.

“The market workers like the attention she can give them-”

“We agreed she didn’t have to do any of that stuff if she traveled with us.”

“She does this willingly, and even so it’s not the same as in the brothel. She doesn’t have to offer up her-” A heavy growl slips from Geralt and Jaskier chooses not to finish his sentence, instead rolling his eyes and moving to his own horse. “I think you would be better off if you just told her you love her.”

“I do not-”

“Oh hush. I see you watch her sleep every morn, then I see you yell at her for waking up late because you forgot to wake her up.” He laughs. “And I see you hover whenever she mounts and dismounts Lugo. Not to mention the way you give her the bigger rations of whatever we eat and-”

“Fuck off.” 

Jaskier takes the win and turns away from the witcher, fiddling with the lute while Geralt tries to make himself look busy. 

After a moment of silence the witcher stands quickly. “Why won’t she speak to me?”

A laugh escapes the bard once more. “Because you ignore her any chance you get?”

“I do not.” 

“Well I know that. But she doesn’t, because you never even bother talking to her. You’d rather silently pine like a lost-” He trails off when he sees you emerge from the hills, sacks of produce in your arms with a small smile on your face. “Fresh hells.”

“The men were ready to lose their money today boys!”

“Did they bother you?” Geralt growls and you give him a glare back before shoving the sack of apples into his chest. 

Once he is sure you are breathing properly he covers you with the blanket, before moving to grab his sword, careful not to wake you up. 

You spend the rest of the day simply ignoring them both, too busy being proud of the way you scammed the merchants and all you had to do was lift your skirt to your knee. 

Geralt kept Roach near your own horse, and Jaskier took the back for once, all of you traveling in silence until Jaskier begins to whine. 

“It has been forever since we slept indoors.”

Silence follows for a moment before Geralt turns to glare at him. “And Y/n just saved us so much coin we can each get a room in the next town.”

“This is true! I did!” You laugh, turning to look at Jaskiers mopey face. 

“Fuck.” Geralt grunts, turning back to the road so he doesn’t have to look at either of you again. 

Jaskier is still sitting in the hall with his lute, strumming softly in the drunken daze as the crowd they had gathered earlier has finally died down. 

“Bard.” Geralt grunts, trying to get his attention. But Jaskier doesn’t move, simply keeps his eyes closed as he plays a chord. So Geralt kicks his chin. 

The bard before him jumps up with a shout before his eyes land on the white haired witcher before him. 

“I got us all rooms and I found you in a hallway.” 

“I was merely resting for a moment.” He sighs, reaching down to grab the ale mug filled with coins he earned from his performance. “It’s hard to be a -”

The silver amulet is shoved in his face before he can finish the sentence, eyes widening as Geralt grunts. “Who gave this to Y/n?”

“The charming blonde who had been dancing with her all night while you sat in the back and glared.”

“Where did he disappear to?”

“You mean after you snatched her?”

By the time the three of you made it to the next town your ass was worn from the saddle and you were a bit wobbly when you got down, Geralt standing behind you and you scoffed as you looked at him. “Waiting for me to fall so you can lecture me?”

He opens his mouth to respond and you find yourself excited that he is actually about to answer back before he huffs and glares before disappearing. And once more you are left feeling like nothing. 

You watch as he disappears into the tavern before turning to Jaskier. “I asked around at the market…”

“About?”

“About work.”

“Ah!” He smiles, moving to lean on you. “And what did you find for our dear witcher to do?”

“Not for him actually.” Your throat tightens as you struggle to find the words. Jaskier doesn’t seem to catch on to your solemn mood. 

“Oh? A performance for me? I’m sure I can prepare a lullaby or two-”

“For me.” You interrupt, pulling yourself away from him and crossing your arms uncomfortably as he stares at you. 

“For…..you?” You nod at his question, trying to gain some power here. “What do you-”

“Madame Horchels brothel is in this town, she is famous within word and if I met with her then I am sure I would be set up with a room and a hot meal a day-”

“Why in fucks sake would you ever want to go back to that?”

Tears were welling in your eyes as he stared at you and you struggled to find words. “I am just……tired of feeling useless and pathetic……”

“So you would go back to whoring?”

“You don’t have to act so disgusted!” You snap, shame filling you at his reaction. “I never saw you complaining about my past when I was flirting with guards or-”

“I am sorry, I never meant to judge. I just think…..” He sighs out and rubs his face aggressively before moving to pull you into a hug. “It’s been a cold couple days. How about we go in and get a drink, a good night's rest in actual beds before we make decisions? Yeah?”

A hooded figure passes you both to get into the tavern and you simply shrug. “I think my mind is made up Jask.”

“I think it would be a mistake and we would miss you terribly……..okay I would miss you terribly.”

“Why would you miss her?” Geralt snaps out from a couple steps away, eyes squinted in an angry manner. He had originally come to snap at you both to watch your surroundings but had caught the tail end of the conversation instead. 

“Y/n here was just rushing a decision. But we aren’t gonna talk about that, right now a round of ale on me.”

“You spent all your coin two towns ago on new strings for your lute.” Geralt reminds, eyes never leaving your figure. 

“Then I shall make more coin!” He cheers, pulling you into the tavern and snatching the room keys from Geralt. 

Things escalated from there, and any time Geralt asked about their conversation they changed the subject and he was beginning to lose his mind. Were you okay? Why would Jaskier miss you? Why was he so worried about this? He watched you drink all night, ignoring him, and he watched as many of the men in the tavern asked you for a dance. He knew none of the men were a threat, and you knew how to handle them, even if it got out of control he could have his sword to their throat with a mere minute. So he didn’t really pay attention to your dance partners. 

 But one in particular caught his attention, the hooded figure that had walked too close to you both earlier had emerged from his corner and asked for a dance, and something in Geralt screamed for him to go and get you away. But he didn’t, instead he sat back and drank, allowing you room to have fun. 

The blonde stranger whirled you around and spun you and bought you drink after drink. Your eyes glazed over and your smile was wide enough to split your face, a jealous feeling crept into Geralts chest and the urge to punch the stranger grew and grew as Jaskier played song after song. 

“Can I get you another drink?” 

“Hmm?” Geralts attention snaps from your figure to the tavern wench beside him, giving him a small smile. 

“Another ale?”

“I think I am fine. Thank you-” She doesn’t wait, walking away since she didn’t get more coin and when Geralt sneaks his attention back to you he can’t help but slam his empty mug down. 

The stranger had you turn around with you lifting your hair as he placed an amulet on your neck, kissing your shoulder and before Geralt could stop himself he lunged to grab you. 

One moment you are giggling about the gorgeous, the next you are thrown over Geralts shoulder as he shoves the gorgeous fae away from you, hauling you up the stairs of the inn with no care. 

“Put me down!” You shout, slamming your hand into his back as he walks through the first hall then up the next flight of stairs. 

“You’ve had too much to drink.” 

“And you care why?”

“Because that man would take advantage.’ He growls. 

“Well he gave me a necklace, that’s how the business works.” You giggle, reaching up to touch the necklace but the world whirls once more as Geralt places your feet on the ground and pushes you into the wall. His hand stopped your head from hitting the wood but the rest of you was pressed between him and the wall. 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” You ask breathlessly, watching his face with adoration. Had he always been so…..

“Joke about that. You need something then I will get it for you.” 

“What if I want the prettiest jewels in the kingdom?”

“Then I kill more beasts.” He was dead serious and the hazy feeling was taking over so before you know it you find yourself leaning in to whisper “What is I want an orgasm?”

A red tint crosses his neck but his face remains serious as he leans his head against yours to whisper. “Then you ask me.”

And for a moment you can’t breathe, you find yourself aching, every part of you wanting to touch him suddenly. But before you can he whispers once more. “But not tonight. My first time with you will be sober.” 

Then the wood behind you disappears and you realize he had pressed you against the door to your room. Landing in a ball on the floor he sends a small smile before slamming the door and the heat that had filled you dims for a moment. 

But just for a moment. 

You pull yourself up from the floor, moving to the bed before the aching returns and your body heats up twice as bad. Everything begins going hazy as a sweat covers you and then you lose it. 

“I need to go.” Geralt snaps, shoving Jaksier to the direction of the stairs. “You go watch her. Don’t let her make any more mistakes.”

“Where are you- Geralt? What happened?! Hello?!” Jaskier calls after the witcher, watching him storm through the tavern before slamming the doors on his way out. With a deep sigh the bard grabs his jacket and mug of coins before making his way to find the rooms. 

It had been an hour since he left you in your room and Geralt could not relax himself. Jaskier had just stopped singing and Geralt was still pacing the inn room, back and forth back and forth. 

The aching hard on he had refused to go away, the image of your dazed eyes all he could think about, and the way you whispered to him had him so close to snapping all together. But he didn’t, and you were safe in your room with him just two doors down. But the floorboards creaking by his door caught his attention, and he reached for the sword as the doorknob jiggled. 

Stepping towards it slowly as it creaks open only to reveal you, standing in the hall in nothing but your dress slip and a flushed face. “Geralt-” You moan out and his knees nearly buckle when you rush in and slam the door. 

The sword falls from his hands so he can catch you when you come hurdling to him, pulling him in for a harsh kiss. Your lips melt into his and you moan in victory when he kisses back, pressing yourself against him as your hands fly into his hair. 

His own hands find purchase on you hips, and before he can tell himself not to he moves them to start a grinding motion the both of your would like. It stays like this for a moment until you bite his lip on a particularly aggressive moan, pulling back to catch a breath as you press your hips into his harder than before. 

For a second he admires you, the way your face scrunches up in pleasure and the moans that he is pulling from your lips, letting out a heavy ‘FUCK’ when you circle your hips. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” You gasp out, hands dragging from his hair to his chest before you start tearing the clasps on his shirt, scratching it a bit in your struggle to get it off. “Ineedyou, it hurtssobad-” 

This makes him hesitate, pulling back a little just as you fling his shirt, your hands flying to undo the slip and he finally catches your eyes. Only they weren’t the eyes he had fallen in love with, instead they were a deep red. 

“Y/n?” He asks, heartbeat racing as he snatches your wrists in one hand, the other coming to grab you chin. “Look at me.”

“Geralt, please. It hurts.” You whine and the gem in the amulet glows the same red as your eyes. 

Dread fills him as he reaches down to tear it off you, the silver cutting you a bit before he chucks it across the room. 

He couldn’t breathe properly as he watched you come down from the spell, anger filling him. You hadn’t meant any of this, this had been a spell. 

He was a fucking fool. 

“Geralt?” You breathe out, taking in the room before looking at his shirtless torso and the small scratches you had made to get the shirt off. “What-”

And just like that you were gone. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your nose started bleeding as you passed out, he barely caught you before you hit the floor. “Fuck.”

You awake mid day- the sun blaring in through the blinds and you do your best to cover your eyes.  “Oh make it stop-”

“There are no covers for the window.” Jaskier sighs from where he is laying on the floor. “I tried stealing the blanket from you and you hissed at me.”

“Serves you right….” You mumble, taking in the room as you realize that last night hadn’t been a dream after all and a deep embarrassment fills you. 

“H-have…..have you seen Geralt?” You ask, leaning over the bed to look at him.

“He left around sunrise in a pissy mood.”

“Did he… did he say anything?” You felt like an utter fool, and you were doing your best not to be sick. 

“Said to watch you so you didn’t make any more mistakes.”  Jaskier shrugs before yawning. 

“He said that? He said mistake?” Your voice cracks as you wrap the blanket tighter around yourself. 

“He did. I assumed he caught you with the blonde gu- Y/n? What’s the matter?”

“I…… I have to go.” You rush out, jumping over him to leave the room. 

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Geralt finds Jaskier waiting at the horses when he rides up, tired and cranky, and he gets even crankier when he sees that your horse is empty of all your travel bags. 

“Is she not awake? Do we need to get a healer?” He rushes out, launching from roach to get to the tavern only for Jaskier to hold the lute in front of him. 

“She woke up several hours ago, it’s nearly dusk.” 

“Then where is she?”

“Gone.”

“Gone?” His heart is racing too fast and he’s hoping that Jaskier starts laughing soon and this is all a joke. 

“I told her you said to make sure she didn’t make any more mistakes and she got really sad and started crying as she packed up.” He explains. “She went to this brothel and they wouldn’t let me in but they let her in and she came out to say bye soon after that.”

“She went to a brothel?!” He snaps, grabbing the collar of Jaskiers dress coat. 

“Don’t blame me! This is your doing!”

“How. So.”

“You were the one that made her feel worthless! Never looking at her and always in her business about her mistakes-”

“Her mistakes get her hurt, or worse, killed!”

“Then tell her that! Rather than yell at her all the time with no explanation-”

“Where is the brothel?”

“It’s no use.”

“Where. Is. The. Brot-”

“She made a deal! The madame owns her!”

“Not on my fucking watch.” Geralt snaps, mounting the roach in one fluent move before nodding to Jaskier. “Hurry.”

He had to get you. 

💘 Main Masterlist 💘

He had his snakelets. There were still Auckes and Serrit out on the Path. They would meet him at the turn of each season, catch up with him and confide in each other. There was care there. That was similar to having a home again, but it wasn’t quite right. They were still adrift, meeting up at borders and forest instead of hearths and homes. 

No, Letho was not home until he was tucked in with Eskel. 

Their relationship began perhaps a decade or so after the Kingslaying business. Eskel was on contract and Letho desperately needed the coin as well. Looking back on it, it was a jerk move, what he had done.

“Do you even know who to turn the head to?” Eskel asked from the ground where he was pinned down by a sword to the very edge of his shirt. There was blood dripping from his split lip. 

“I’ll figure it out. Small village. Desperate enough to hire a witcher. Shouldn’t be too hard to find someone grateful that the beast’s been slain.” 

Eskel had scoffed at him, the sound more put out than angry at him for stealing the credit. Perhaps that was what caught Letho off guard, the lack of a proper fight. 

“You’re going to let me walk away with it?” Letho couldn’t help but ask the other witcher. He eyed the figure on the ground. 

“If you’re desperate enough to take another’s kill, then you need the coin more than I do.” Eskel looked up at him and despite how often he’d seen the amber gaze of other witchers, Eskel’s eyes caught him off guard. They were the deepest shade of yellow, rich with calmness and an emotion Letho couldn’t place a name to. 

“D-do you need help?” Letho couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth or trust the sight of his own outstretched hand towards Eskel. 

Eskel twisted the knife out from its place above his shoulder and returned it to Letho’s hand, fingers on the blade and handle to Lehto’s palm. “No, but I could use a drink.” 

And that was where it had began. 

The winters were harsh for vipers. Their blood ran cold and the lack of sunlight during the few hours of day made them weak. Letho had to work toward the Keep at the first brisk winds of autumn if he wanted a fighting chance to make it up the mountain. 

The wolves were wary of him at first. How could they not be after everything he had done. But once they saw the way Eskel doted on him and his snakelets, it was over. Any further arguments died on their tongues. For what could anyone call what Eskel did to them but doting? 

He brought the vipers gifts, read to them, kept them warm and fed and entertained; he loved them tenderly and dearly. Auckes and Serrit did not always join the wolves at the Keep but when they did, they were met with nothing but care from the scarred witcher. They felt safe to return to him when the desire arose. 

Perhaps that was another reason why Letho loved Eskel. The witcher loved everything that he had to offer. He loved the snake, fangs and all. 

“I’m sorry to have made you wait so long.” Those were the first words that Eskel greeted him with when he returned from the Path. 

Letho laid in the burrow he had created in their bed. He had gathered the sheets and covers and furs from the stores and placed them amongst the pillows and bed frame. Eskel’s clothes from the closet were placed on top. Despite the lack of scent from the wolf on those pieces of cloth, they served as a reminder of him. Letho laid hidden in the center, body curled up for heat. If he could have managed to fit underneath the bed, he would’ve made his burrow there. 

“I missed you, wolf.” Letho admitted from the furs. “Where were you?”

Eskel entered the threshold and placed his bags by the door. There would be time to unpack. As it stands, there were more pressing matters to attend to. 

He removed his shoes and placed his swords aside. Then came his tunic and trousers leaving him in nothing but his braies. 

“The Path took me far away from home this year.”

Letho scoffed and turned away from him. He resisted the whine that wished to escape from his throat. “Bet there were more handsome witchers out there.” The jab was a weak one but Letho was cold and had spent the start of winter without his wolf. He was very much warranted in his bitterness. Even Vesemir had begun to give him pitying looks. 

“Oh, Letho.”

The sound that left Eskel was almost like a wounded cry. Letho couldn’t help himself. He snuck a look from underneath the covers. The look on Eskel’s face could have had the gods weeping in his favor. 

A whimper escaped the wolf. “How can I make it up to you?” Eskel kneeled by Letho’s burrow and brought his old clothes to fortify the walls. “I can bring the snakelets home?” Eskel offered. 

Letho burrowed himself further under the covers and furs. He backed himself up against the headboard away from Eskel. “I’m not desperate enough to be won over that easily with simple bribes,” Letho hissed. He wanted to pin Eskel down and force him to stay there but winter would end and the Path would call and they would be apart again. What he wanted was insane but Letho was cold and had been left alone for a whole month more than he had to be. He wanted his wolf badly. 

“Then how may I win you over?” Eskel hummed. 

Letho was silent. There was a small part within himself that he didn’t want to admit aloud. He liked it when Eskel begged. It made him feel powerful, in control, loved. 

“I want a promise.”

“Anything I am capable of. Anything my hands can bring you. It is all yours if only you ask me for it.” 

Eskel was so sweet with words and it was hard for Letho to stay firm with him. He could feel his resolve crumbling before him. If the dead kings could see him now they would mock him. 

“Hmph,” was all the viper could manage. 

“My valiant viper,” Eskel tried, moving closer to the edge of the burrow where the overgrown snakelet hid. “What must I do? What beasts must I stay? What may I say?” 

Letho refused to let his forked tongue betray him. He was allowed his anger. He was allowed this expression. For so long he had to keep face for his snakelets but not here. Here he could hide if he so pleased. 

“I want…I want your time and your word.” 

“You have it.”

“Promise me you’ll make for the Keep at the first turn of the season, not this.” 

“I swear it.” 

“And…and you’ll…” Letho didn’t want to say it. He drifted off but Eskel was patient. The wolf continued to kneel by the burrow without complaint. The whirling winter wind was white against the window. The sound was not a howl or a wail but a whisper against the day. “And promise that you’ll send word if anything keeps you away longer.”

“On my life, I’ll do just that.” 

Letho whined at that. The sound forced its way out from his lungs, moving past the lump in his throat. “I want you to come here and hold me.”

Eskel did not have to be told twice. He was careful not to disturb the structure of the burrow as he made his way into it. The very fabric of its walls were warm to the touch, even with mutated blood running through his veins. 

Letho watched the wolf closely as he laid next to the viper. It had been too long. This was all Letho had left. Despite himself, he whimpered once more. The very sight of the other witcher. The smell of him within their burrow, skin and flesh and solid bone. Here he was.

“You have me.” 

Letho brought his hand to Eskel’s face. He was gentle, as careful as he was capable of as he placed his palm against Eskel’s cheek. The scruff there was coarse against his skin. “I thought you’d never—that you had—”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Letho pulled him close so that their noses touched and their breaths were one and the scent of skin was overwhelming. They were too large to be doing this, pressed against each other as if insatiable youths with too much energy for their spindly bodies. But it was what Letho needed to feel real. 

“We could spend the whole winter here.”

“The old wolf will only put up with so much. He’ll want you out of here and working by sun up.” 

“He makes exceptions.”

“He’s already made one for me.”

Eskel chuckled. He wanted so badly to kiss his viper but he was afraid to disturb what peace had settled upon them. “Well then I must savor the time I have.” 

Letho cried and hid his face in Eskel’s chest. He grasped the other witcher’s shoulders as if holding on tight enough meant never parting from him. “D-don’t…you can’t…not those words. Please.” 

“Oh, my love, I am sorry.” Eskel wrapped his arms around the viper. He kissed the crown of his head, holding the witcher there until his trembling settled. “You have me. You have me here.” 

“I have you.” 

“Yes,” Eskel told him, “You have all of me.” He kissed Letho again and again and again. He kissed him until Letho turned his face away from Eskel’s chest. Then he kissed him once more. “You will always have me.” 

Letho held Eskel as he held him. “What have you turned me into?” 

Eskel did not laugh but a smile pulled at his lips. “Soft, are we?” 

Letho snorted and the sound broke the spell that had fallen on them. “Soft? Me of all people?” 

Eskel joined him in his giggling. “Yes you. Especially you. I think you’re the softest witcher I have ever met in my days.” 

“That is a lot coming from you of all people.” Letho kissed the grin on his face with a smile of his own. “You make kittens seem cruel.” 

“Kittens?” Eskel pulled back to peer at viper. He looked at Letho and held his gaze. “I much prefer wolves.”