One thing Geralt enjoyed after sex was Triss playing with his hair idly with her nimble fingers running through the snow white locks. It was something that helped soothed him and gave him a reason to give a tired smile as he closed his eyes. Her touch lulled him to sleep as they chatted away, eyes barely open and voices low and filled with the sound of sleep. She helped chase away the bad dreams that he would get, even to this day. They haunted him less and less the more she helped him drift off peacefully.
The mornings that he did wake up covered in cold sweat and with a heart racing, he was immediately drawn to her for comfort. He hesitated less and less to wake her up when they did occur. She never snapped at him, never refused him as moved to hold her. She would tangle her fingers in his hair again and nuzzle her face against the crook of his neck. And sometimes that was enough for him to start another round between them with limbs tangled and sweat making them stick together and almost impossible to move away from each other.
Triss made it easy to forget all of his troubles for a short amount of time, mini-vacations that wiped his conscious clear and made him focused only on her. Maybe it was a spell she casted on him, maybe she was magic herself. He knew she would never tell, no matter how much he chased her and "tortured" her. She intoxicated him to the point of everything ran through his mind in a haze and dreamlike.
Her laughter rang in his ears and swam through his mind, breath sweet and a tongue that uttered wicked words and sounds out of her. She tasted of the alcohol they were drunk off of and smelled of the sweetest pheromones, hair cascading down her body in red and golden flames. Geralt's body pulsed when she dug her nails into his back and ran her fingers over the many scars that marred his body, too many to count at this point. Triss contrasted him with her soft skin against his calloused hands and hardened exterior.
And after it all, she was as gentle with him as she would be with a small child, staring at him lovingly and caressing him. Geralt found it easy to look her in the eye and know she wasn't afraid of him. His cat-like eyes watched her, gazed at her peaceful face and the way her lips curled into a smile the longer their eyes lingered on each other.
He wouldn't trade her for anything, and neither would she.