Chapter Text
In front of him, Jaskier was waltzing up to the proprietor of the brothel. He rested both hip and elbow on the counter as he inquired about two rooms and two women. If Geralt had seen anyone else take that posture he would have assumed they were arrogant at best, or a cocky arse at worst. But when Jaskier did it, he almost looked debonair.
The room, though more of a bar, smelled of ale and sex. Round the tables were men, women, and even several who blurred the lines between the two, drinking and making merry.
"We've only got one woman who'll willingly serve your kind." The woman at the bar addressed him sternly.
Geralt nodded. He wasn't in the least surprised. The widespread misconception that witchers were monsters, and thus monstrous in even the fine things, had lead him to this situation, or worse, more than once.
"Lucky for you, as I was just explaining to your friend here, she's one of the last two available this evening." Her voice was kinder once it was clear Geralt wasn't planning to argue.
"Many thanks ma'am," Jaskier straightened, now having put forward their pile of coin.
"Save your thanks for the girls." She chuckled, winking at him cheekily, and pulling the gold the rest of the way across the bar. Then she called across the room, "Bri!" She beckoned a young blonde woman forward from where she'd been enjoying bread with other women at a table. "Bring these fine men to their rooms, Muriel for the witcher, and see if Anorra is ready."
Bri nodded, and threw a casual smile at them both, before turning with a wave of her hand. She lead them up the thickly carpeted stairs to a series of rooms above.
While they waited for Bri to return from within Anorra's chambers, Geralt noticed belatedly that the two rooms were next to each other and he cast a sidelong glance to Jaskier who blinked back.
"What?" He asked suddenly nervous under Geralt's gaze. "Have I got something on my face?"
"The rooms are right next to each other. What if I hea-"
The door in front of him opened interrupting his explanation.
"Are you going to stand there ogling your friend all day or are you going to get in here and entertain me?"
Geralt's head whipped toward the speaker. Equal parts curiosity at whom he would be 'entertaining', and to defend the accusation. But the woman standing there made his mouth run dry, and whatever retort he had died in his throat.
Her hair was curled at her ears and was a pleasantly warm shade of brown. She had a sheer robe on that did little to hide her pert breasts and well muscled shoulders. Her face was soft, but there was a strong set to her jaw and smirk playing across her lips that set her neck into fascinating relief.
When Geralt made no move to enter, she reached out and grabbed his arm to pull him inside. There was no fear in her scent, in fact he could already smell the familiar cinnamon spice of arousal hanging heavily in the surrounding air. It was dizzying, and he found himself, not just willingly, but eagerly following her lead.
The door shut behind him with a click, and he found himself crowded against it.
"It's been a long time since I've laid with a witcher." Her breath was hot against his lips, and he discovered that she was very nearly his height. "Is there something you'd like to say before we begin?"
"Can I touch you?" He sighed, wanting to get the awkward question over with.
In his experience, many women who spent nights with him were only comfortable using their mouths. It was something he understood, if they considered his hands bloody, tainted. The last thing he wanted was to be in the heat of the moment only to find the atmosphere souring with distress. It left him addled with guilt, and the women shaken.
She pulled away, and when she did her expression was tender. She placed her palm open against his cheek, and the intimacy of the gesture reminded him of Jaskier. Heat rose in cheeks, and he knew that had he been more capable, he'd be blushing.
"It would be a shame if you didn't." She smiled at him, but there wasn't any cockiness. It was compassion. Maybe even sympathy, but it didn't bother him. She was comfortable with him, was willing- wanted to do this.
Her hand slipped down his cheek towards the side of his neck where she squeezed. It was comforting if a little possessive; he liked it more than he cared to admit.
"Let's go slow, hmm?" Muriel leaned in and her lips brushed against his cheek bone in a chaste kiss. Then she was pulling him towards the bed and sitting him down. She moved to the bedside table, where she lit a candle and then returned her attentions to him.
"Put one hand on my hip, the other on my shoulder." She took a careful hold of his wrists and guided them to where she wanted. "I'd quite like to kiss you now." She said quietly, and her eyes were lidded, her gaze heavy on his lips. He could almost feel a phantom weight there. She leaned in slowly, and let their breaths mingled before pressing her lips to his. She gripped the hair on the nape of his neck firmly, and he sighed into the kiss. The opportunity allowed her to slip her tongue into his mouth.
Almost unconsciously he felt his hands wander over the expanse of her body. The slippery fabric teased his finger tips, and he could feel the ridges of her muscles. He pulled her closer, slotting her firmly between his legs, and pulled away from her to mouth openly at her breast and stomach.
"That's it." She murmured, petting his head with her free hand while he slipped her robe off her shoulders.
Distantly he heard a chuckle and faint conversation from the next room over. "Yeah, he'd touch me- just like that."
Of course Jaskier's a talker.
"Let's get those clothes off, love." Muriel interrupted his train of thought. Her fingers teased at the ties of his shirt, and she helped him pull it off. She moved to her knees and unlaced his boots with care before moving to the buttons of his pants.
"What's your name witcher?" She asked, and mouthed at his half hard erection through his small clothes while tugging his trousers down.
He hummed with pleasure before answering. "Geralt- Geralt of Rivia."
"Well Geralt of Rivia. You are my favorite client of the evening."
He shivered at the feel of her hot breath. Normally, he'd assume a woman in her position was lying, but he could detect no trace of such, and it thrilled him to full hardness.
"You like that, hmm?" Muriel ran her hands soothingly over the tops of his bare thighs. "The last witcher I was with was the same. All that strength, but he didn't want to use it. The right words had him undone. It was a wonderful experience, mutually I believe." She chuckled. "Lie back for me?"
When he did, she pulled his underclothes down and off. His cock was enveloped in soft, wet, heat, and he groaned. His shaky found their way hesitantly to her hair, and he could swear he felt her smiling around him.
Geralt's nose twitched, and he took a deep breath enjoying the scent of the burning candle- lavender and cedar. His eyes flew open and confusion washed over him. Jaskier.
Almost as if on cue he heard the bard whimper through the wall. It was followed by quick pants and "more, please more".
But Muriel was sliding up his body, draping herself in all her naked glory over him, and he was lost again in the feeling of being chest to chest with someone. In a way he never was- except on the coldest nights pressed tight to Jaskier in his bedroll-
"Ah-" He gasped into the kiss when her hand pumped tightly around his length. "Fuck," Geralt muttered, bucking into her fist. He flexed his hands on her hips.
It could've been minutes or hours, but she's lowered herself onto him with a throaty cry. He moved a hand to rub at her clit and with a punched out gasp she rutted forward to seat herself fully.
Muriel slumped forward."Melitele bless witchers and their good sense." She whispered and bit his ear lobed gently. Then she started a slow grind on him, each movement drawing out sharp groans.
With a quiet rumble in his chest, Geralt flipped them over. He kissed her cheek, and down the side of her neck where he nipped hungrily at the hollow of her throat.
"Fuck- Yes, that- Thank you." She panted, tilting her head back to give him better access as he fucked into her thoroughly.
"So good to me, so good Geralt." Her hands fluttered to his hips, and his heart stuttered at the praise.
"Shit-" She inhaled sharply, "Right there, that's it."
"Please, enough, just get in me already- ah!" Jaskier's voice, rough with want sounded through the wall. "Oh- ho, yes, fuck- thank you, thank you- mmm." It was followed by a woman's snicker.
"I should be thanking you. I don't get to do this every day."
Geralt was pointedly aware of the candle again, and moaned brokenly against Muriel's neck, spurred on both by the scent and the image painted in his mind by the words he overheard. No, that wasn't it. That would mean-
"Ah- That's wonderful, love," Muriel pulled him into a rough kiss that was more teeth than tongue. She scratched her nails down his back, not enough to hurt, but it lit him up from his head down to his toes. Her legs curled around him.
He felt a familiar heat building low in his stomach.
"Muriel- Fuck- l- I'm close." He whispered into her ear, trying to breathe her in, anything but that damn candle and the disorienting feeling stirring in chest.
"Good, good." She shuddered. "Touch me, please."
Geralt reached down and forced a hand between them, taking the time to run it over her quivering abdomen. This time, when he rubbed against her, timing it carefully with his thrusts, she whined loudly.
"Oh gods- That's perfect, your perfect-"
The rhythm of his hips faltered in the face of her adulation, and he moaned again.
Her eyes were screwed shut, and her brow pinched in concentration.
Geralt licked at the line of sweat running down her neck, and she clenched around him with a shout.
"Fuck- fuck- Geralt-"
The combination of the warm tightness around his cock and Jaskier calling his name, the confusion that he liked that, really liked that, it was too much. He thrust into her roughly a handful more times, and then he was trembling through his own release. His body buzzed as he worked himself and Muriel through the sweltering haze of pleasure. He collapsed against her, lights still flashing behind his eyes. Exhaustion lapped at the edge of his mind as he laid there, shivering slightly in her arms.
Muriel trailed her hands up and down his sides with a contented hum. Geralt listened as her heart began to slow it's pounding against her ribs.
After a moment, he pulled out carefully, and they both whimpered at the stimulation. He lifted himself off and to the side of her, but he took her with him and cradled her to his chest. Geralt was determined to relish every precious moment of contact. But the stillness around them was broken by a high, muffled wail.
"That's it darling, let go for me."
Jaskier keened under whatever it was Anorra was doing and Geralt did his best to ignore the way his cock twitched again in interest, focusing instead on Muriel's warm resonating laugh when she noticed.
"I wouldn't mind bedding your companion either. He does sound so... delectable."
A shot of dread chilled his stomach, but he was too tired to argue, and he chose rather to kiss her lazily than deal with the conflict inside him.
"Ah- by Melitele-"
It was going to be a long night.