Author's Notes:

Disclaimers: This story contains both references to and spoilers of the books and the games. Nothing belongs to me aside from this storyline.

This fic is also based on the events of my other stories, but can act as a standalone. (If you would like some context, please refer to the next section.)

Lastly, if you're familiar with my stories, please know that this fic deals with themes that are heavier than what I usually write. Fluff this is not! =)

Context: From the events of my other stories, the ones that make an impact in this fic are: Yennefer and Geralt are newly married ("Paradise"); Yennefer and Triss have rebuilt their friendship ("Reinvent"); and Triss and Eskel are together and live at Aretuza, where Triss has finally decided to become a teacher (bonus point to anyone who can spot the book reference!) along with the rest of the Lodge members ("Reinvent").

And finally, the most important author's note...

Credits: This fic would not have been possible if not for the help and guidance of a few very special people. Thank you to DaisyofGalaxy, who acted as my scientific consultant and helped me strike a balance between reality and fantasy. And a massive thank you to Eileniessa and WeirdosOfTheWorld for being my outstanding betas. You approached this fic from completely different perspectives to help me shape it into something coherent, and you both spent inordinate amounts of time helping a perfect stranger with her project. You're awesome. That is all.

Now, the story...

Please - Prologue

For as long as she could remember, baths had always been a haven for Yennefer. She relished every opportunity she had to bask in the sanctuary of lukewarm waters scented with her signature fragrance. Baths were a time when she had the freedom to choose between immersing herself in all of her thoughts or none at all. They were a tangible way to show the world that she would get to it when she wished – that no matter how pressing its needs were, hers would be taken care of first. As a deformed child fearing the abuses of her father's knuckle and her mother's neglect, she would covet the privilege of a bath to shut out the hurt while she washed away the dried blood and uninvited tears. And after suffering defeat in Castle Stygga, when she had thought that her end would take place with her lover in the luscious sensuality of bathwater and orgasms, she had morbidly rejoiced at the luxury of such a hedonic way to pass.

She lifted her hand and watched the warm trickles of her indulgence flow between her fingers. Her own fragrance filled her senses. She felt a burning sensation lighting her lower regions despite the cooling water and briefly wondered if her husband was in the vicinity; his nearness always brought out the most visceral, most carnal reactions of her desire, even when it was inconvenient – which, she reveled, it rarely was anymore.

She waited a few minutes for Geralt to enter their bathhouse, to offer an awkward but endearing line meant to arouse her sexuality when, in reality, the mere thought of him was often enough to bring her to heat. It was with disappointment and mild bemusement that she noted he was not going appear, when she could sense no trace of him.

She ended her bath with a slightly frustrated flourish of her hand, banishing the used water to nonexistence. She wrapped herself in her bathrobe without drying off first and decided that if he was not going to come satisfy the growing ache in her navel, she would take it upon herself to seek him out. She was not one to play games when it came to matters of pleasure; if she wanted it, she would take it. And she knew he adored that about her.

With wet footsteps and nothing but a loose garment separating the air from her tingling skin, she padded to where she heard her husband clanking about, rearranging his displays of armor and swords as if doing so would make him appear less retired. A corner of her lips curved, and she felt feverish with passion. When he turned to face her, the reaction in his darkening eyes told her that the expression she wore was one of pure seduction. With a thud, he dropped the two shields he had been pondering and advanced on her, his breathing already heavy with lust. Their lips crushed without having uttered a single word – without having needed to. She allowed him to guide them into their bedroom, ready to accept him into her in the hopes of placating the throbbing in her loins, whose intensity was surprising even to her.