[ she feels his laugh rather than hearing it, a vibration through his chest, his ribs, up through her hands. the angle is better, when his hands get under her legs and he lifts her with no issue at all, the ease at which his strength comes something that - despite the brutish nature of it, does thrill her. it is less that geralt can do it that she can let herself go enough to be allowed, his weight and his movement and him keeping her up against this thin wall.
yenenfer does not share geralt's inherent quiet, letting her voice rise and tilt, the gasp of breath ease into a moan of pleasure as he begins to move. this, like many other things, had been a strategy she had learned in her many years a sorceress. their body, their beauty, was a power to be used, to be manipulated. but that had never, truly, been the case with geralt. had never had to be. from that first time in the basement of that ruined building and every crossing of paths sense, yennefer feels and lets herself feel, chases, wants. it happens out of her periphery, the claws, the gauges - there's a flicker of surprise deep in her gut, that very quickly flashes hot, and yennefer surges forward to kiss him, feels the sharpness of his teeth, and she wants.
they are both different, though her changes - other than the slight point to her ears, a detail she's grown accustomed to, despite how she all but subconsciously still hides them under the curls of her hair when she's able - aren't as easy to notice. he might feel it, smell it even- the shift in the chaos in the air, the low vibration under her skin. there's no need for her features to be different. if anything, this is one of the few times that yennefer has looked fully, truly like herself since she escaped the castle. there is no slight change to her appearance, no minor alteration. scars and all, she is her, because she wants to give that to geralt, herself.
the kiss breaks, and yennefer lets out another noise - possibly a cry, possibly a moan, possibly a hissed yes, yes- and maybe even the sound of his name. the heat rises between them, the warmth of his skin adding to the searing heat of her own. geralt slams his hand against the wall and she feels the wall shake with it. it pulls another soft laugh from her, her breathing almost as quick as her heartbeat. ]
Geralt, Geralt- [ he doesn't need the warning, but she gives it to him anyway, the fact that she can feel it coming. that they're close, she's close, as her hands dig a little more into the muscle of his arms, his shoulders. she clings to him as much as she can, moving her body with the pace he sets. ]
no subject
yenenfer does not share geralt's inherent quiet, letting her voice rise and tilt, the gasp of breath ease into a moan of pleasure as he begins to move. this, like many other things, had been a strategy she had learned in her many years a sorceress. their body, their beauty, was a power to be used, to be manipulated. but that had never, truly, been the case with geralt. had never had to be. from that first time in the basement of that ruined building and every crossing of paths sense, yennefer feels and lets herself feel, chases, wants. it happens out of her periphery, the claws, the gauges - there's a flicker of surprise deep in her gut, that very quickly flashes hot, and yennefer surges forward to kiss him, feels the sharpness of his teeth, and she wants.
they are both different, though her changes - other than the slight point to her ears, a detail she's grown accustomed to, despite how she all but subconsciously still hides them under the curls of her hair when she's able - aren't as easy to notice. he might feel it, smell it even- the shift in the chaos in the air, the low vibration under her skin. there's no need for her features to be different. if anything, this is one of the few times that yennefer has looked fully, truly like herself since she escaped the castle. there is no slight change to her appearance, no minor alteration. scars and all, she is her, because she wants to give that to geralt, herself.
the kiss breaks, and yennefer lets out another noise - possibly a cry, possibly a moan, possibly a hissed yes, yes- and maybe even the sound of his name. the heat rises between them, the warmth of his skin adding to the searing heat of her own. geralt slams his hand against the wall and she feels the wall shake with it. it pulls another soft laugh from her, her breathing almost as quick as her heartbeat. ]
Geralt, Geralt- [ he doesn't need the warning, but she gives it to him anyway, the fact that she can feel it coming. that they're close, she's close, as her hands dig a little more into the muscle of his arms, his shoulders. she clings to him as much as she can, moving her body with the pace he sets. ]