[ it does feel a bit like a returning - with his hands, rough and strong and dependable and constant - and her magic, thick and heavy and humming. she feels like this is what it's supposed to be. how this is supposed to feel. it feels like ages, lifetimes in many ways, since it's felt this right - her, with her magic back, and him, with his hands on her.
she knows that a large part of the distance between them had been her own doing, her own choices. not wholly, not entirely, but enough. and that had led her to dark nights, lonely moments, thinking that maybe she would never find herself here again. would never find him here again, with her. it had been too much to imagine, to impossible a distant.
it does feel possible, now. they feel possible.
geralt squeezes at her shoulder, tangles in her hair, and yennefer feels her own layers slip away. she's always been a combination of them all, of who she is and who she presents, of who she lets others see and who she crafts on top of that. he bites, and as yennefer feels the mark begin to form, feels the pierce of fangs, and yennefer moans - uncaring of the sound of her own voice, of how loud it is and who hears. she digs her own nails into the muscle of geralt's back, his shoulders uncaring of if, or how far, it digs into his skin.
yennefer has never bothered to hide this, or any, side of herself from geralt. never thought it mattered, or was needed. and now, as she feels it build, feels this grow and expand and come to a climax, there isn't any need to pretend otherwise. and then as it's easing, as her chest rises and falls and she comes back to herself, he is there again.
there's a smile, his smile, a crooked tilt to his lips. she smiles back, leans into his hand and smiles back. her body feels loose, her legs holding around his waist and the knowledge that if he wasn't holding her where she was, she would slide straight down to the floor. instead, his voice is low, he says I missed you and yennefer's smile grows, her next breath feeling almost bubbly. ]
I missed you, too. [ her limbs are loose, barely connected, but with enough energy, with enough willpower, she lifts her hands to his face and cups both sides of his jaw. she leans her face forward - pressing her forehead to his.
she doesn't notice, if he has repeated himself. if anything, she repeats herself, too. ] I missed you.
no subject
she knows that a large part of the distance between them had been her own doing, her own choices. not wholly, not entirely, but enough. and that had led her to dark nights, lonely moments, thinking that maybe she would never find herself here again. would never find him here again, with her. it had been too much to imagine, to impossible a distant.
it does feel possible, now. they feel possible.
geralt squeezes at her shoulder, tangles in her hair, and yennefer feels her own layers slip away. she's always been a combination of them all, of who she is and who she presents, of who she lets others see and who she crafts on top of that. he bites, and as yennefer feels the mark begin to form, feels the pierce of fangs, and yennefer moans - uncaring of the sound of her own voice, of how loud it is and who hears. she digs her own nails into the muscle of geralt's back, his shoulders uncaring of if, or how far, it digs into his skin.
yennefer has never bothered to hide this, or any, side of herself from geralt. never thought it mattered, or was needed. and now, as she feels it build, feels this grow and expand and come to a climax, there isn't any need to pretend otherwise. and then as it's easing, as her chest rises and falls and she comes back to herself, he is there again.
there's a smile, his smile, a crooked tilt to his lips. she smiles back, leans into his hand and smiles back. her body feels loose, her legs holding around his waist and the knowledge that if he wasn't holding her where she was, she would slide straight down to the floor. instead, his voice is low, he says I missed you and yennefer's smile grows, her next breath feeling almost bubbly. ]
I missed you, too. [ her limbs are loose, barely connected, but with enough energy, with enough willpower, she lifts her hands to his face and cups both sides of his jaw. she leans her face forward - pressing her forehead to his.
she doesn't notice, if he has repeated himself. if anything, she repeats herself, too. ] I missed you.