abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] let these bones be the giver

[ He laughs: low, a rumble in his throat. The balcony is new, he thinks. They've been in her room, her loft, a variety of furniture downstairs—but not outside up here, overlooking the floor below.

Not that that's the view on his mind right now.

He curves over her, kissing further down. He takes his time, but he's working his way south, bit by bit. Places another kiss on the inner side of her leg, where the skin is softest. Then he finally delves between her with his tongue, hand curling tightly around her hip as he does, like he can draw her even closer. There's a soft clink where his medallion bumps the ground. ]

[ Just wait until you experience a hot tub jet on a sore muscle, Geralt. You will be angry this technology has been kept from you for so long.

She doesn't rush him, lets him meander and set various patches of skin aflame with need, and she can feel her stomach already start to tighten into a low knot. Her head falls back to the ground with a barely-there whimper when he mouths at her leg, but then he is holding her so tightly and everything is good and her breath is knocked away for a moment.

Her fingers scrabble at his around her hip and her back arches up, comes back down with a groan. ]

[ His life can only be improved with hot tub jets.

Her skin grows heated under him. When she arches, he digs his fingers in a little harder, imprints of his nails left behind. His lips part against her. She's warm, slick. Growing ever more so. He breathes her in, spread on his knees and hair spilling over his shoulders.

He can hear that noise she makes, soft and breathless; he wants to hear it some more—the one that lets him know he's found exactly what she likes. ]

[ Her fingers close around his wrist, his pulse under her palm, and her grip is tight. She hooks one knee over his shoulder, lifts up with a gasp and her heel pressed against his spine. Her other hand threads in his hair and she can't keep her eyes open anymore. ]

Fuck, Geralt. [ It's a feverish, choked whine, followed by a sharp squeak as he shifts his hand just so. The knot squeezes, wrings itself ever more taut. More swears escape as panted breaths, her eyes dark and shiny when she manages to open them again, look down. ] Harder...

[ She's easy to sink into, always, so that's what he does. Her heel digs into his back, right along the thick scar that's formed over it.

When she cries out, he buries himself deeper. Flattens his tongue like that against her. The taste of her sits heavy there, and he curls his fingers a little.

He lifts his eyes to meet hers briefly, but he doesn't slow or stop. His own pleasure rises from it all: her grip in his hair, the sharp noises she can't help. It leaves a tightness in his trousers and there's an equally wanting sound that comes from his throat. ]

[ It's the noise he makes that does it. Her head falls back, the knot snaps, and everything in her head goes blessedly, gloriously silent. Just washed away as if on the tide sweeping through her, deafening and explosive all at once.

Spine curved up, her breath stops in her throat, takes a minute before she can feel it in her lungs. She realizes she's babbling, just a repetitive string of swears and Geralts that trails off into a whimper. Every inch of her shudders, convulses, and her nails scrabble on his scalp. ]

[ She clenches so tightly around him, and he grips her in turn. Lets her ride it out before he rises, his hair a tangled mess and propped up on one hand. He draws in a breath that catches.

When he's certain she's looking, he licks his lips, then wipes his thumb over them: slow, taking in the flush of her cheeks. The pounding of her heart that he can hear. ]

Good? [ His eyes glint; he knows it was. ]

[ She looks up at him in a daze, still trying to catch her breath. Her hand is shaky when she raises it to his cheek. Her mouth twists, a moue that doesn't fully cover a smirk, and when she speaks, her voice is still thick, raspy. ]

Thought I told you not to be a dick. [ There's no effort to hide the amusement in her voice, and she reaches up to pull him back down to her, eyelids fluttered closed. He tastes like her and that's all she can focus on. ]

[ He gives a pleased hum, low in his chest, and allows himself to be tugged downward. He hooks a finger in the necklace she wears—the tooth he gave her and which he's found around her neck since.

His smile is half-hidden. ] You like mine.

[ His lips part for her; she can taste herself on him as much as she wants. He hasn't fully undressed, and he doesn't yet even now, but she can probably feel him where he grinds down slowly against her. ]

[ She'd told him at the very start, she wouldn't take it off. Granted, she had mostly been joking at the time, but things changed. Also, there was an aspect she hadn't known at the time -- in a place where she can just create any necklace she wants, wear the fucking Hope Diamond while she watches TV, a gift that was made with thought and care means something. It's worth wearing all the time.

Snorting, she runs her hand over his cheekbone, back into his hair where her fingers catch on tangles. ] It'll do, I guess.

[ There's a soft croon into his mouth, and she wraps her legs around his, presses back against him. It only takes a few moments before she slips her arms between them, blindly unfastens the line of buttons. She bites his lip as she uses one hand to gather some of the moisture he left behind on her, that still comes, and then wraps her slick fingers around him. ]

[ It'll do. His amusement grows a hint, but most of it is overridden by a sharp shiver through him as she reaches for him. He brushes some of her hair back, leans in to mouth against her throat. That spot just under her jaw.

Somewhere along the way, there's a rough Harder, but really—he's been halfway there already while he was between her. It doesn't take much before he grabs hold of something—a railing, a cushion—and digs in hard. The sound he makes catches, almost desperate, like he's forgotten what it is to let go and find his mind empty of anything except what's right in front of him.

His forehead rests against her shoulder. Maybe he's clinging to the feeling for a bit; he doesn't know, but he stays there for a moment or two as he catches his breath. ]

[ She coos and murmurs in his ear, tightens her hand and grazes with her nails. The sound that comes out of him makes her core throb so hard that she shudders. He spills over her hand, her stomach, and she sighs against his cheek.

There's no need for him to move, not really. It's not like she has other plans. He catches his breath and she wraps her free arm around his neck, her hand cradling the back of his head. There is not a single thought in her brain, not beyond the immediacy of his weight, his warmth above her. ]

[ Eventually, he rolls off of her but not away. He lands instead on the floor beside her, with a miniature dragon peering down at him from the railing. His fingers rest lightly on her arm.

His eyes close for a second or two. He isn't in much of a hurry. He should be, perhaps, but he isn't. He's not normally one to avoid reality, but fuck if he doesn't want to put his head in the sand for awhile. He's tired of caring. And with Jaskier and Ciri both avoiding their home, and Rinwell exploring the city, what's he returning to? A reminder of all that's happened? He hasn't even thought of finding another contract after he cut his last one short to return to the city.

Besides, he doesn't want to run out on Julie, either. Not after everything she's told him. He turns his head to face her. ]

Should I find us another bottle? Or does work call?

[ She turns onto her side, arm pillowed under her head, watching him with a languid, satiated gaze. She feels almost limp, elastic, and she hadn't even been aware she was that tense. It tracks, but she's been in that mindset for long enough that it felt natural.

Not that she would readily admit it, but she's glad he wants to stay. "You might have died for a demon" is kind of a large emotional weight to take on on top of what she was already going through, and she doesn't know how well she'd deal with immediate processing if she's alone. It needs more time to be something she can actually handle.

She shakes her head a little, rolls her shoulder. ] No work. I don't have any plans. [ Literally, her entire schedule for today was get trashed and do magic until she passed out. This is better. ] But I have an idea, if you wanna hang out for a while.

[ That makes two of them, where plans are concerned. The only thing he's been doing is cleaning up the mess that's become his domain. Frankly, he hasn't much desire to go back to that right now. He's been sunk deep in it as of late. The city leaves him feeling oddly trapped, but he isn't willing to leave again while all—this is happening. The Horizon has started to serve as a short reprieve.

It can wait. The keep will be here for as long as he is.

He buttons up his trousers, but doesn't bother looking for his shirt. ] I'm open to ideas.

[ His was only to keep drinking. Matters of creativity are not his strong suit and he's a creature of habit, if anything. ]

[ She doesn't clean her skin or bother with any of her own clothing, just rises to her feet and begins to pad off toward the far corner of the balcony. It's been almost fully surrounded by greenery, giving the impression of a lot of plants, but closer inspection reveals that it's actually an entirely separate area, with the plants acting as walls. Julie glances back at him. ] C'mon. I just put this in the other day, I'm not sure I'm gonna keep it yet.

[ She slips through a gap in the leaves, and within the space is a very small plunge pool and connected jacuzzi. They, ostensibly, should not be able to exist, given the depth of the overall structure, but that would require more awareness of architecture than she has to actually realize and impact the creation. Despite being indoors, the area seems somehow warmer, sunnier than the rest of the building. There's a little trickling waterfall made from rocks on one edge. She'd mostly just been bored and playing with the idea, seeing if she could get it right without needing to expand the actual balcony itself. She may have gotten high and watched old, recalled episodes of HGTV shows right before she did it. It's totally normal.

The whole thing is really quite lovely, if probably extremely strange to someone unfamiliar with the idea of landscaped, manmade water spaces. The hot tub bubbles away pleasantly, and there are already frozen margaritas just sitting on the edge of it. It's entirely probable that those margaritas just live there, perfectly icy, until needed. They look nice, either way, almost decorative.

Tying her hair up with a quickly manifested scrunchie, she slips into the frothing, unnaturally clear water. She holds one arm out behind her, hand open for him. ]

[ Last time she said she had something to show him, it was the dinosaur. (Which he can now look at in a bit of a new light.) He doesn't try to guess what might be up there now. Another creature? A spaceship? He's learned what that is, in the loosest of terms.

Turns out, it's a bubbling pool of water tucked within her plants. A lake or a pond, really, except indoors. He pauses to take it in. He's found rocky lakes with small waterfalls before. But he's never seen one constructed within a building. The water steams gently into the air.

He strips down, follows her in, careful not to knock over the colourful drinks on the side. Oh. Mm. As much as he appreciates running water out there in Cadens, a cheap inn room shared with at least four means he's largely washing in cold water. Which he doesn't mind. Freezing lakes are a staple of the Continent; he's used to it and at least Cadens has the kind of heat that makes a cold bath desirable.

This is simply more pleasant. He sinks in. ] Can I convince you to keep it?

[ Look, sometimes you get a dinosaur, sometimes you get a life-size Nativity, sometimes you get a hot tub. It's always a gamble with women like Julie.

Though there don't appear to be any kind of visible controls, the jets kick up as he sits, a quiet whir of unseen machinery from somewhere under the water. She settles on the ledge inside the pool, takes one of the drinks and sips from it as she chuckles. ]

Mm, you'll make me think you only like me for the modern amenities. [ She squeezes the lime into her drink, then discards it. The steam is already dampening her hairline, curling the strands too short to be swept up with the rest. ] Kaer Morhen is the kinda place this would normally be. We do that in my world, put hot tubs out in the snow. It's a whole thing, for vacations.

[ That brings something of a furrow to his brows, the sudden stream under the water, which is as close to startled as she'll ever see him. Give him a second or three to ease into it.

He huffs, but the expression on his face is warm. ] Not only.

[ He can't explain, really, that people do not show him things. Not usually. They assume he's seen it all and back home, that's largely true. She's sort of the first. Maybe it's simply a welcome change, that not everything new he discovers indicates an impending darkness over the world. ]

Seems luxurious. Nobles, I assume.

[ He can't imagine any common folk digging into the snow to build a bath when natural springs exist. It sounds frivolous as fuck.

His head tips back; eventually, when their conversation wanes, she might find he's starting to nod off in here. Which probably says more about how much sleep he's been getting lately (none) than the bath itself, but he's only ever going to blame the bath for it if asked. ]

[ She giggles into her margarita over his momentary shock, rests her head in the corner of the hot tub. It never gets old, exposing past people to things that barely warranted a blink back home. Julie's world had been terribly jaded -- she has never known a life without constant invention, innovation, every week a new "next big thing". In only months, both the people of Vegas and Boulder had essentially re-created functioning society, including electricity, television, remote cameras. She knows it wasn't always like that, that most of history did not run at breakneck speed, but it's all she was ever exposed to. ]

Well, rich folks, yeah. They love goin' to the mountains. [ Nonexistence of nobility aside, she cannot fathom being wealthy enough to not only go on vacation, but to go on vacation to somewhere cold. She has known people who could afford to take an occasional vacation, but it seemed to be a universal rule that you went somewhere warm, relaxing. Skiing and chalets and shit, that's only for people with enough money that going to the beach or Disneyland isn't enough anymore.

When she catches him beginning to doze, she'll coax him out of the water, get him somewhere that he can actually nap. Horizon sleep is better than none, and if she can ensure at least a bit of it, she will.

She expects that she'll need to do that more frequently in the next few weeks. ]

[ CLOSED ] let these bones be the giver

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