[ she doesn’t want him to forget about his wounds, or what waits for him when they wake up - or, perhaps maybe she does. perhaps more than anything, she wants him to be able to forget what happened, and in doing so maybe she could as well. but yennefer knows he won’t, just like she won’t. knows that forgetting that sort of trauma never happens, never leaves the lines of your body. not really, not fully.
it is a gesture. a branch. an inch because that is all they can give each other. an inch, that really does mean miles. a kind of hope that he understands that she wants to be able to do for him. he lets her magic warm through him, words she knows like they’re written into her very fingertips. her hands reach out across him, her magic settling into his skin, and he lets it. lets her.
there have always been miles between them, physically or otherwise. and yennefer has lived long enough to know that they haven’t crossed them now, now in this exchange alone, but with his weight over her now and her hands at his back - maybe those miles aren’t nearly as far.
he tilts up for her and she takes it. takes the skin he offers and arches with his hands. their foreheads brush, and yennefer feels her eyes open up again, just to have the view of him. of his face, this close, the way he looks when he breathes. his mouth finds the spot, and her body reacts. her breath hitches, just as he knew it would. just as she knew he would.
the sound of wanting that escapes him sends all sorts of shivers through her, her nails digging into the newly healed (and still scarred) skin of his back. ]
Geralt- [ it’s a request, but it’s also not - something wanting and strained in it. impatient. ]
no subject
it is a gesture. a branch. an inch because that is all they can give each other. an inch, that really does mean miles. a kind of hope that he understands that she wants to be able to do for him. he lets her magic warm through him, words she knows like they’re written into her very fingertips. her hands reach out across him, her magic settling into his skin, and he lets it. lets her.
there have always been miles between them, physically or otherwise. and yennefer has lived long enough to know that they haven’t crossed them now, now in this exchange alone, but with his weight over her now and her hands at his back - maybe those miles aren’t nearly as far.
he tilts up for her and she takes it. takes the skin he offers and arches with his hands. their foreheads brush, and yennefer feels her eyes open up again, just to have the view of him. of his face, this close, the way he looks when he breathes. his mouth finds the spot, and her body reacts. her breath hitches, just as he knew it would. just as she knew he would.
the sound of wanting that escapes him sends all sorts of shivers through her, her nails digging into the newly healed (and still scarred) skin of his back. ]
Geralt- [ it’s a request, but it’s also not - something wanting and strained in it. impatient. ]