abraxaslogs | [ open ] If you're feelin' like you need a little bit of company

[ With him, she rarely thinks about the Julie who was lost. That Julie would have ruined this relationship within weeks. No, it was vital that she live through those months in Nott, all that time that forced her to grow. And that's the reality she wants, this one here now, with him. This makes her feel like maybe what she actually is scared to lose is not herself, but everything and everyone the old Julie was tied to.

The bed is soft and warm, and she knows damn well that Geralt is absolutely content to sleep on the ground even when he doesn't need to, so it's further confirmation to her of his mind. Her knees sink into the mattress as she pulls her boots off by the heels, sheds her dress like a second skin. Even going by the standards of Julie's wardrobe, her underthings are clearly meant only for viewing, not utility. She wasn't going to toss aside the tradition of putting in effort on Valentine's Day.

She reaches for him before she lies back into the pillows, her hands in his hair and along his jaw as she kisses him again. Just a few minutes ago, she had felt such satiety, contentment. Now, she feels like the Singularity, just single-minded desire she can't even voice. ]

[ He shifts backwards on the bed. His eyes follow the curves of her body as her dress slinks off her shoulders, past her hips. She does often wear something silky and lacy, but this is particularly form over function.

He tugs gently, playfully, on one of the embroidered flowers. ]

Hm. Good thing I showed you someplace nice.

[ As she lays back, he curves over her, knees on either side. His lips brush hers, and beneath his fingers, one of the flowers turns into a fresh bloom. A soft scent fills the air. He doesn't usually manipulate what already exists in the Horizon, but now and again, he's inclined. ]

Maybe warn me before takin' me someplace gross, so I know to wear my conservative delicate. Funeral panties.

[ As she smiles, the rest of the flowers blossom across her chest. Petals and leaves rest soft against her skin, rather than the somewhat scratchy backs of the appliqués.

Her hands run down his chest. Her eyelashes are low when she looks up at him with dark eyes, and her lips are parted. A flush creeps up her sternum and across her face as she pulls his shirt untucked. ]

[ A faint laugh escapes him. ] And what delicates have you reserved for monster killing?

[ His thumb brushes over the silky petals. Spring flowers. It's almost spring, he realizes. Back home, the frost would begin to melt soon. He'd make his way down the mountain. Meet the bard at the edge of some town.

Now he's just here, with them, with her, season after season. A change, but not a bad one.

He pulls his shirt over his head, discarding it to the side. Her nails scrape lightly against his skin as her hand travels. Her parted lips beckon him forward. He tilts down to kiss them again, hair falling over his shoulders. ]

Monster killin'? That definitely calls for animal print. And more coverage. [ It may be a joke, but it's still a very decisive statement. Julie will not strip her humor of its fashion sense.

He is warm against her fingertips like always, and the now-familiar squeeze in her chest intensifies. It is a feeling she had never once experienced before last year, and now she feels it all the fucking time, one of the only things that had been capable of cutting through the noise that had filled her head.

She doesn't know whether she should be concerned about how much she likes it. She finds it hard to care.

Her hands cup his face, and her neck arches. One leg rises to wrap around his hip, folds down and presses her heel against his back. Making a soft noise, she nips at his lip with her teeth, her thumb tracing over his cheek. ]

[ Almost makes him want to ask whether she's thought about it before he posed the question.

He lets some of his weight settle on top of her, holding the rest of himself up on one hand. Sometimes he sees it, the way she looks at him. It isn't as though he doesn't recognize what it could mean—but they've never spoken about it. He's not certain they need to. Not many in this world feel so permanent to him, but she's one of the few. When he thinks of months, years ahead, she's there.

Perhaps that's why it seemed important to bring her here.

His fingers work loose the buttons on his trousers. He pulls the flimsy fabric past her hips; leather creaks as he grinds against her, gripping the sheets in one hand and her leg in the other. He exhales sharply, embers igniting low in his belly. ]

[ He has seen her closets. He should know that she plans her fashion the same way she plans her parties. All the way.

She gasps quietly as her eyelids fall shut, her head dropping back into the pillow. Her arms wrap around him again, her nails digging into his back. This is the moment she never tires of, that she would keep reliving for a few centuries if she could. There is such an instant rush of satisfaction that speeds through her veins, makes her thoughts feel like a shaken up bottle of soda. Something about the squeeze makes it all feel more, sharper, better than it ever was before. Which is not nothing, considering how much she was already really into sex.

Her hips roll into his as her breath picks up. Her thigh flexes under his hand as she clutches his shoulder, looking up at him through her eyelashes. ]

[ A light shiver runs through him. Her long nails dig into his back as her hips rise to meet him, and he sinks deep into her.

The Horizon gives everything a faint ephemeral shimmer—the air almost shifting with his mood. The windows swing open, the chirping of a goldfinch drifting through. He'll never be as comfortable with the Horizon as she is, but it molds to him more easily as time passes.

He presses his lips to the dip along her collarbone. The pace he sets is unhurried, a little languorous, but the way he grips her belies the burning need growing in him. ]

[ The air seems like it's almost glittering when she closes her eyes to it, her neck arched. The noise she makes is quiet and high. She doesn't mind following the speed he sets; the slow, steady rhythm feels like it rolls around inside her body. One hand clutches the back of his head.

She feels a bead of sweat run down her calf from her knee. Her heartbeat picks up, blood rushing in her ears. Blinking at the ceiling with glazed eyes, she breaths out a soft, plaintive moan and turns his face back to her with her hands on his cheeks. Her fingers curl in his hair as she kisses him again. ]

[ Eventually, his eyes fall shut. He can feel her heart pounding as much as he can hear it.

Pleasure sparks at the base of his spine. She holds him just as tightly in return, and he lets his lips part for her. He can taste the blackberries and honey from the miniature cakes; light, airy.

Inch by inch, his hand roams over the plane of her stomach, down towards the side of her leg. Her skin is hot, slick—the scent of her wraps around him. He finds that soft spot just behind her knee, nails scratching lightly. ]

[ Her skin tingles in the wake of his touch; she wraps her legs around him, her ankles locking against his back. Her nails pull down his shoulder and arm before she closes her hand around his wrist. When she breaks away from his lips, it's only to pant with her mouth slack and kiss-swollen.

A heavy pressure starts to bloom from the center of her body outward, weight stacking in time with their movements. Her eyes are glazed, so close to his face that he just looks like a blur. Every breath she takes seems to drag noise with it as she exhales; her voice sounds loud in her own head even though she's barely murmuring.

Eyelashes fluttering, her back arches and she gasps. There's a moment of just white silence as her thoughts fizzle, and then there's nothing in the world except his breath against her skin. ]

[ A stuttered breath falls from his lips, then her name. He drinks in the sight of her, arched beneath him, flush red. His hips shift; the sheets twist around his fingers, and if he tears something, he pays it no mind.

It's a bit after her that he tenses, toe-curling pleasure spilling free. Blood rushes between his ears. He feels heavy and light all at once; the sun glittering through the stained glass grows too warm against his damp skin. For a moment, he forgets where the sun is even coming from.

Eventually, he rolls off, landing on his back beside her on the bed. The chandelier swings lazily above. ]

[ Her legs shudder around him as her nails press into his skin; she stays taut as a bowstring until he stills. Only then does she manage a full breath rather than a whimpering wheeze. Her whole body seems to thrum with each heartbeat, all the way into her fingers and toes.

When he rolls away, she turns on her side to face him, pushing up briefly on one elbow to slip out her bra, now made of flowers that she doesn't want to crush underneath herself. Settling her head back on the pillow, she looks at him with her eyelids low. ]

I could stay here for ages.

[ He props himself up on an elbow, watching her. She looks relaxed. So is he, the sheets tangled between his ankles. ]

You can. Doors are open.

[ She can come any time she wants. For once, he has a place he does not mind visitors wandering through. The temple isn't impersonal, but it holds few of the memories he prefers not to answer questions about. Some part of him knows that Kaer Morhen speaks for itself, between the scorch marks and crumpled walls and skeletal remains. That it says things he does not want to address out loud.

This is better. ]

[ She blinks, then snorts as she reaches for his hand. ] I mean with you, dummy.

[ It is a truly beautiful, relaxing place to be, but without him, it's just a backdrop for her. An empty backdrop, for someone who never wants to be alone. But she appreciates the sentiment, that she is welcome in his space even without him.

With a sigh, she briefly closes her eyes, content to just have fucking silence in her head for a bit. ] Did I tell you that Nadine and I are gonna find a bigger place? Like, a whole house.

[ Oh. He blinks back at her, and there's a small smile in response. Yes. That. ]

Is that so. [ He hums. It feels about time. The two have been living out of the inn for a while. Even Geralt's put down roots of a sort, with a place he returns to, where he stores his belongings instead of keeping them permanently strapped to his horse.

It's strange, but not in an unwelcome way. ]

Does that mean I'll be carrying boxes soon?

[ Smiling, she laces her fingers with his, lets their hands rest between them on the bed. Her response is a hum. ]

Soon-ish. We haven’t gone out lookin’ yet, officially. We need somewhere big enough for all the plants. Maybe with enough free land for a greenhouse.

[ The flat at the inn would be enough, honestly, if not for Nadine’s gardens. Every variety of medicinal herb imaginable currently occupy most of their free space, and that’s without accounting for what Nadine has already moved to the back of the clinic. Not to mention the space they need for the cannabis operation. ]

I’m mostly worried ‘bout not findin’ anywhere close enough to where we are. I don’t wanna be clear on the other side of the city from everyone else.

[ Mm. Right, the plants. Between Nadine and Jaskier, Cadens is truly flourishing in greenery. Not that Geralt can complain; he misses the abundance of lush trees and grass, and though the potted plants and contained gardens are not the same, it's better than nothing.

Besides, the rare rains spring some nice flowers around. ]

You'll find something. [ Physical distance features less on Geralt's mind—his frequent travels means he's usually apart from everyone for a week or more at a time—but he does not expect Jaskier wants Nadine very far, either; he imagines if nothing else, the bard can pull some strings. But the truth is, a good chunk of coin will get you far in the Free Cities, and that they do have.

It'll be nice to have a place away from the tavern where he can return to after a job. Something quieter. ]

Edited 2023-05-10 21:09 (UTC)

[ Julie actually finds the desert landscape fairly unpleasant. While she's used to wide open spaces, no trees, Kansas still had grass and flowers, four full seasons. Nearly her entire time in the desert before was in casinos, and everyone knows there's no windows in a casino.

Being in close proximity to Nadine and Jaskier's plants feels like a luxury now. ]

I'm just hopin' it don't take too long. [ Honestly, she's relying a lot on Nadine to take care of everything. She has no idea what kind of timeline they're on here.

Rolling onto her stomach, she props herself on her elbows with a smirk. ] It's a lot of rooms to break in.

[ Geralt knows nothing about purchasing land (or a home) or even renting one long-term, either. He's been wandering his entire life. Were it not for Jaskier and Ciri, he'd have likely drifted in and out of inns to this day.

But he's glad they're settling, her and Nadine. A permanence to their presence in Cadens.

He turns his head to look at her, a small smile lingering. There's that. ] We'll get started early.

[ When they do finally choose a home, he'll show up with a small set of shelves for the place—ones he's built in his spare time, with little perching stands on the sides for the two fluttering moth hares. ]

[ open ] If you're feelin' like you need a little bit of company

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nsfw

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wrap soon?

you got it dude

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