Chapter Text
The rest of the day passed in relative peace, both witchers going about the usual necessary tasks their job required: sword sharpening, potion brewing, staring at each other smoulderingly across the room every five minutes, amour repair. They ate together and tended their horses, until eventually it was evening again.
They both found themselves settling into their shared room, Eskel sitting in the armchair by the fire, Geralt sitting on the floor next to the fire, back against the mantlepiece, his head thrown back slightly, and his eyes closed. It was a familiar scene; they often sat like this in Kaer Morhen in the winter. Eskel would read or do some other small task, quietly, but Geralt just liked to sit there, listening to quiet sounds of the crackling flames and Eskel’s breathing, as they both warmed him with their presence. They didn’t need to talk, they’d known each other for so long, being in each other’s company was natural.
Geralt thought about this as he sat beside the fire in the inn and it made his heart ache with a strange mix of homesickness, longing and contentment. Hi emotions swelled in a great unformed wave. He focused on his breathing to calm himself and clear his mind. Eskel obviously noticed the change,
“Everything all right, wolf?”
Geralt hummed, honestly not sure how to respond.
“Ah yes, the multipurpose Geralt hum,” Eskel laughed, “I might need more than that.”
Geralt cracked an eye open and looked over at Eskel, “Just happy.” He said simply.
Eskel beamed, but then cocked his head, his smile becoming wry, “Is that all?” He pushed.
“Happy, and… and sad, I guess.”
Eskel just waited. Geralt didn’t want to speak anymore. He wanted to focus on the happiness and peace just sitting here with Eskel created. He didn’t want to focus on the negatives. But Eskel was very good at waiting, and he knew that the best way to get Geralt to talk was to just sit and wait. Eventually Geralt couldn’t take the tense silence anymore, the words he knew he should say bubbled up inside him and demanded to be spoken until he couldn’t hold them in any longer.
“I feel sad about what I’ve missed, melancholy about the past. I feel homesick and also like I am home, which doesn’t make any sense. I’m so happy that you’re here but I’m worried I’ll miss more time with you because I’m an idiot and I handled last night terribly.” As he’d spoken he had closed his eyes again, he didn’t want to see Eskel’s face, “Is that enough?” He demanded, his posture the same as before, but all peace had fled.
He hadn’t realised what he’d been truly feeling until the words started spilling from him. He felt like a failure. This had been a trial run so that he might be able to go back to Kaer Morhen or at least see Eskel more, but he had fucked it up. One night and he had been a wreck, in a way he had never been before. He couldn’t go back to Kaer Morhen, that much was clear. But cruelly, last night had also made him crave it. Desperately. He realised he was clenching his fists, because his nails had begun to dig into the skin on his palms. He forced himself to relax them, resting them on his knees.
There was a rustle and then Geralt’s hand was captured by Eskel’s and his warm weight was settling beside him on the floor. Geralt wordlessly leaned into him, resting his head in the crook of his neck. Eskel didn’t say anything for a long time. Which was the right thing to say really. His presence alone restored some of the peace Geralt had been feeling and pushed away the rising distress he felt over being sure he could never have this again. In the moment with Eskel, he could just enjoy the peace, even if in the back of his mind a traitorous voice whispered the truth. He couldn’t have Eskel, he couldn’t have the other witchers, he couldn’t have his one escape. You’d have thought by now, Geralt pondered, that I’d be used to not being able to have what I want.
“I have to apologise.” Eskel said, breaking the silence.
Geralt dragged himself out of his reverie to stare at Eskel, “What do you have to be sorry for?” He demanded, a little more aggressively than he wanted.
“For last night. I took things too far, too quickly.”
“But Eskel,” Geralt said, snuggling back into him, he desperately wanted Eskel to feel better, the only thing worse, that could happen now, would be Eskel feeling guilty or unhappy about their time together, “last night was amazing. It’s my fault for breaking down at the end.”
“Geralt, stop.” Eskel said, his voice uncharacteristically stern, “You literally told me yesterday that you were finding being around us too overwhelming and then I go and get you to role play, I didn’t realise how deep you were and I reacted poorly. I controlled the situation last night, me, I did. You have nothing to blame yourself for.”
Geralt buried his face in Eskel’s shirt and said nothing. His mind was in turmoil again, he didn’t even know what he felt, it was just emotion. There was a pressure in his chest, compelling him to say something, shout it! Only he didn’t know the words he wanted.
Eskel continued, “You give your trust to me when we do things like that, you let yourself be vulnerable and in return I’m meant to protect you and help you feel safe. I got ahead of myself last night. I’d been thinking too much about what our reunion would be like and I only thought about what I wanted, not what was right for you.”
A small part of Geralt squirmed with pleasure at the thought of Eskel imagining what their reunion would be like. But that was overwhelmed by his frustration. Eskel was speaking as though he had enjoyed last night at Geralt’s expense, but Geralt had loved it too.
Then Eskel started speaking again and his words triggered panic in Geralt, “Maybe… maybe you were right to not come back. The distance was probably good. Kaer Morhen might not be the best thing for you right now.” Eskel continued speaking but his words were drowned out by the rushing in Geralt’s ears.
Just moments before he had been thinking about how he probably shouldn’t continue with this, probably shouldn’t go back to Kaer Morhen. But to hear Eskel say the words aloud made him suddenly realise how much he wanted it. He wanted Eskel to stay and never leave. He wanted Eskel to drag him back to Kaer Morhen and have his way with him. He wanted that warm feeling of submission and vulnerability. And he wanted the pleasure. The pleasure of pleasing Eskel and his fellow witchers, the pleasure of submitting and the physical pleasure which was the reward. He wanted and he needed these things. And Eskel was trying to take it from him, for his own good.
Suddenly the pressure of the unsaid words boiled over and he shouted, interrupting Eskel, “Stop! Please, please, don’t take this away Eskel. I need it, I need you. I love it. I can’t let go of it again. I thought I could leave it behind, but I can’t! I don’t mind when it goes too far, don’t let that stop you. It’s worth it if we can keep going. You don’t need to feel guilty, I can handle it. I can be good, I promise, please, don’t leave, I can be good.” His outburst trailed off into shaky whispers as the intense emotion he had been feeling burned up and he was left only with an empty desperation. He buried his face in Eskel’s chest, gripping his shirt in his fists tightly, as though Eskel was a life line in a rough sea. To his horror, he found tears rolling down his cheeks. At least they were hidden by Eskel’s shirt, he thought.
“Oh Geralt,” Eskel said in a painfully tender voice, “You’re always so good, I’m not going to leave.” He repeated these words, over and over, until Geralt managed to get a hold of himself again. He sat back and looked at Eskel with red rimmed eyes.
Eskel reached out a hand and cupped his jaw, rubbing his thumb over Geralt’s cheek.
“So, you want to try this again?” He asked, hesitantly.
Geralt hummed an affirmative.
“I think if this is going to work, you need to use words more.” Eskel said a little wryly.
“Yes, I want to try this again.” Geralt said, punctuating each word a little sarcastically. He felt rebellious all of a sudden, mocking Eskel’s request. He wanted to make a joke of it, to turn the situation round to something lighter, rather than all of this heavy emotion. But Eskel’s face became serious.
“Geralt, I mean it. What happened last night, even before I took the collar off, you were way too deep, I didn’t know what to do. I think we need to check in on each other more often.”
Geralt pouted a little, feeling childish, “But I like being that deep,” He said, leaning in and going for a flirtatious tone, tilting his mouth up to meet Eskel’s, “I like it when you own me, Eskel, when you make me yours.” But Eskel put out a hand and pushed him away.
Geralt huffed in annoyance, fixing Eskel with a glare.
Eskel matched it with one of his own, just as intense, “I know you don’t like negotiating like this, but it’s this or nothing. I won’t compromise. I was scared yesterday Geralt, I thought I’d properly hurt you.”
“But you didn’t.” Geralt said, though it was more of a whine.
“Not this time, no. But if this continues, I could hurt you. I could do something you genuinely don’t like when you’re not in a state to tell me, and then be affected by it afterwards. I don’t want that. And I don’t want what we do to affect you in everyday life. That’s not okay.”
But that’s exactly what I want, Geralt thought. And that was the trouble really, Geralt realised. He wanted to be overwhelmed. He loved in Kaer Morhen when he was in that state for days on end. Day after day when he wouldn’t wear a stitch of clothing, open and willing and pliant. He craved that. And he couldn’t have it. And, he realised, he shouldn’t demand that Eskel give it to him. That wasn’t fair.
“How about this.” Geralt started, looking up at Eskel, his face finally serious, “We work through this thing together, we build boundaries and figure out ways to make it work for the both of us. But,” He said, placing a finger of Eskel’s muscled chest, “If we manage to work through it, then I want to go back to Kaer Morhen, and I want to fully immerse myself in it again, I don’t want to pussy foot around and do it halfway. I want it to be like it was before.”
Eskel looked down at him, considering, “If we manage to figure it out?” He asked.
Geralt nodded.
“Well, then, that sounds like a deal. We’ll get Vesemir to decide if you’re fit for it.”
Geralt startled a bit at that, “Vesemir? I think I can decide for myself if I’m ready.”
Eskel smirked at Geralt’s incredulous tone, “Who is it who decided when we were ready to take to the path? I can’t think of anyone more qualified that Vesemir to decide if you’re ready.”
Geralt let out a disgruntled huff, “I’m no wide eyes trainee anymore, Eskel.”
“That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”
Geralt wasn’t too happy about how this was turning out. The idea of being presented to Vesemir to be tested brought back unpleasant memories of the various trials and exams he had to pass during training, potion making had been particularly bad, he recalled. But then he thought of the possibilities, the pleasures winter promised if he could do it. That would be worth any trial.
“Fine! You win! We try and figure this out, then Vesemir will decide if I’m ready this winter. Happy?” Geralt demanded.
“Absolutely overjoyed.” Eskel said, smiling.
“So… how are we going to figure it out?” Geralt asked, his mind empty of ideas.
“I have some thoughts,” Eskel said, getting up and quickly returning with the cloth bag, holding the collar. He held it out to Geralt.
Slightly perplexed, Geralt took it from him and held it, without opening it. He thought the sight of it might be a little… distracting.
“I think you should keep that. You should decide when to put it on and when to take it off.”
Geralt grumbled, he didn’t like that idea. The whole point was that it was out of his control.
“Wait, hear me out,” Eskel continued, “I know you want me to control the situation, and I will, but only once this is on. This way you can be in control until you decide you want this on and then I will only take it off when you are ready, to avoid situations like last night.”
It did make sense, Geralt supposed.
“And I think I should start checking in with you more often and you’ll need to reply to me, properly.” He punctuated the last word with an affectionate bump on Geralt’s nose with his finger. Geralt screwed his face up, even though the gesture sent a burst of warmth inside him.
“Fine,” He said, “But, to be clear, I don’t want you asking me questions about what we’re going to do all the time. That kind of defeats the whole point of it. You can ask me if I’m still doing okay and then we only continue if I answer but you still need to lead everything.”
“All right, but you have to actually answer in sentences if things are going okay.”
“Can’t I just say yes?” Geralt asked, getting a little annoyed at this discussion.
“No offense, my dear white wolf, but there are points when you’d say yes to pretty much anything.”
“Fine.” Geralt huffed.
“And when you’re ready for the collar to come off, we’ll use Roach as a safe word. You can use that at any other point if you don’t like how things are going too.”
“Okay, fine. This is really going to take a lot of the fun out of it you know.” Geralt said grumpily.
“Oh, I’m sure we can still have plenty of fun,” Eskel said, his voice becoming husky in just the right way to send fire shooting through Geralt. He leant down and captured Geralt’s mouth in a passionate kiss.
“I suppose so,” Geralt conceded, when Eskel finally pulled away. He picked up the bag and unfasted the tie, pulling the collar out. “Ready to try it out?” He asked with a wry smile, “Because I am.”