A/N This story is inspired by a cut-scene from the first game that implies an intimate encounter between Geralt and Triss. It takes place several months after the events from my other story, Temptation, with the same main characters.
A warning: this story contains sexual language and it is intended for mature and not too squeamish readers. And a second warning: this story has not been proofread.
Disclaimer: the characters and much else of this story belong to Andrzej Sapkowski and/or CD Projekt Red.
July 2070
Triss nearly jumped when the heavy crystal hanging around her neck pulsed. Reflexively, she clutched the smooth stone in her hand. It was warm, warmer than it usually was when nestled between her breasts and warmed by body heat.
A series of small pulses brought Triss over the initial surprise and into focus. She dropped her hairbrush carelessly on her dressing table and clasped her hand around the spear-shaped translucent stone. She closed her eyes, trying to pinpoint the source of the magical power that the crystal was resonating to.
As a member of the Lodge of Sorceresses, Triss was charged with monitoring all magical activity in the Northern Kingdoms. The secret organization promoting the interests of mages accounted carefully for all sorcerers and sorceresses and their magical capabilities. No activity of magical nature was allowed to happen without the close, if secret, supervision of the Lodge.
The kind of unauthorized magic the Lodge had to deal with from time to time was usually harmless, like the sudden show of magical abilities in youngsters. The rather peaceful situation changed dramatically a few months back with the apparition of an unknown sorcerer or sorceress wielding powerful magic, who kept eluding the Lodge.
Triss managed to learn the identity of the source of magic by pure coincidence when, also a few months back, she got called to Kaer Morhen, the remote fortress of the witchers hidden in the Blue Mountains. Not long after her arrival, the fortress was attacked by bandits led by the mysterious mage the Lodge had been tracking. The sorcerer proved to be a force to be reckoned with, and succeeded to escape after stealing the witchers' secrets.
A powerful renegade sorcerer organizing thugs into an army was one of the worst complications The Lodge could face. His actions could undo years of the Lodge's work on gaining the trust of the Northern Kingdoms' monarchs and the efforts to consolidate their political influence. If sovereigns were reminded of how much power a single person could possess, if they began to feel threatened, then all wielders of magic could end up being hunted down and held in an iron grip. The gruesome fate of mages in the Nilfgaardian Empire, enslaved like dogs on a leash was making Triss sick to her stomach. The Lodge couldn't allow this to happen in the Northern Kingdoms. Triss couldn't allow it. This sorcerer had to be neutralized before he did any more damage.
With her eyes closed, Triss followed the trace of magic like a silver lining that mentally led her beyond the city, across Lake Vizima, and into the marshlands beyond. Through the crystal she was clutching, she sensed new waves of magical discharge. She opened her eyes and looked at the crystal that was now glowing red. Fire spells, she thought. One of the renegade sorcerer's magical signatures. She had no time to waste.
She had been preparing for bed moments ago, and all she was wearing was a short, flimsy nightgown. As much as she disliked the thought of improper outfits, now was not the time to worry about her outward appearance. She hurriedly pulled on a pair of knee-high leather boots and wrapped herself in a long traveling cloak. Her pulse sped up, and her stomach felt as if seized by an invisible claw. Facing this sorcerer at Kaer Morhen had been a painful experience, and there was no telling what she was about to walk into now. She took a deep breath before her hand motioned through the air, first grasping, then pushing the fabric of reality, creating a portal to the place hosting the source of magic linked to her crystal.
The complete darkness on the other side disoriented her momentarily, and she stood motionless and tense. A heavy musky smell of still water, vegetation and earth invaded her nostrils. The air was filled with the incessant hum of millions of insects, punctuated by splashing and gurgling noises of creatures emerging, submerging or crawling through bogs. A wave of nausea rolled over her and caused her body to shudder slightly, as if trying to shake off the unpleasant sensations.
When her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, Triss looked around herself. Behind her stood a massive, tall shadow and Triss realised she was standing on a short landing in front of some sort of construction. Her mind recollected some long forgotten knowledge about an abandoned tower in the swamp forest. Legend had it that the tower had been built by a sorcerer from a distant past. The tower was told to held incredibly powerful secrets, magically sealed by the sorcerer who perished when he dabbled with forces that were not meant for mortals. To Triss the ancient tower was nothing more than a decaying building, and the legend a concoction of the inflated imagination of ignorant peasants fearful of magic. But it could make for a good hiding place, she thought. The tower was both difficult to access, and avoided by locals. Could this be the reason that brought the sorcerer here?
There was no sign of him or anyone else here now, and her crystal had stopped pulsing. Whatever had happened here she had missed it. She took a few quiet steps before she noticed something, someone lying on the ground a bit further away. As she approached, her heart skipped a few beats. Oh, no!
"Geralt!" she cried out loud, while she closed the distance between them as fast as she could.
There was no answer. She kneeled by his side and turned the witcher's motionless body on his back. Her fingers searched the vain at his neck while she lowered her ear to his face to listen for his breathing. She exhaled, relieved to sense him breathe. She shook him and called him, but he remained unresponsive. His heartbeat and breathing rate were alarmingly slow. She couldn't make out was was wrong with him in the dim night light. She decided it was best to take him back home before she attempted to do anything, and appraised how to do that. His body was too heavy for her to lift without the help of magic, but she could not magically carry him and maintain a teleportation spell at the same time without the risk of hurting or killing them both.
She opened a new passage, then sneaked her hands under his armpits lifting his upper body, and dragged him along. With some effort, they made it safely back to her room, where she carefully let go of her hold on him. Just as soon, Triss heard her name being called from the far corner.
"Wait, Keira. I can't talk now," Triss spoke out loud without moving her eyes from Geralt's body.
There was no fleshwound she could see on a quick assessment, but his skin had a sickly yellow-greenish color. Kneeling by his side, she unclasped her cloak and pushed it off her shoulders. The skin around his mouth and his tunic were stained by spew and smelled repulsively sour. Poison, Triss thought, while she placed her fingers on his temples, and pushed her will on his mind. Exploring his memories confirmed her diagnosis.
She stood up, grabbed one of the lanterns and hurried downstairs to her laboratory. She rummaged through a cabinet until she found the potion she was looking for. She returned just as quickly, and emptied the content of the vial little by little in the unconscious witcher's mouth. Geralts frame rocked with a brief shiver, and he unconsciously turned on his side and huddled, clasping his stomach. His physical response calmed Triss. She took it as a sign that the potion was working, but knew she needed to be patient for the potion to take full effect.
Triss carefully removed the thick leather strap holding his swords on his back, and noticed that one of his swords was missing. She imagined Geralt won't be happy about that when he woke up. With some effort, she removed his leather gloves, his muddy boots and his heavy tunic as well, then lifted him and placed him in her bed. She covered him up with a blanket and left him to rest, and she walked to the other end of the room, from where she had been called earlier.
"Keira, are you still there?" Triss asked, looking at a tall mirror framed in carved wood standing on the floor behind a dressing screen.
The surface of the mirror shimmered and revealed the petite frame of a blonde young woman wrapped in an elegant blue dress tailored to hug her tightly on the right places to reveal her forms most enticingly. It made Triss feel underdressed.
"Triss, what happened? Did you…"
"Yes, I did, but I was too late," Triss answered, and began pulling off her boots. "The Zerrikanian bastard managed to escape again."
"I'm sorry I couldn't make it. Did you find out what happened?"
"I did. The witcher was there. He has discovered the sorcerer's identity and lured him in the swamp forest. Gerald had him by the throat when the coward summoned his assassin to him. The assassin used a poison bomb, and got away with the sorcerer."
"Is Geralt...?"
"He's alive. Witchers have an amazing metabolism."
"Impressive feat, even for Geralt. How did he manage to accomplish this?"
Triss recollected more of the images she saw in Geralt's mind.
"The Zerrikanian has been hiding in plain sight," she answered. "Right here in Vizima, in the Temple Quarter. Geralt has been turning every stone and shaking every bush looking for him."
"Too bad he didn't contact you before he threw himself into a fight with a sorcerer. If you had been there, the problem might have been resolved. Now he's vanished, and we are back to where we started."
That comment stung. Geralt had been in Vizima in the last few weeks, but didn't contact her. When she had accessed his memories, she didn't run across any thoughts about her in his mind.
"Not exactly," answered Triss, careful not to let the pang in her gut seep into the tone of her voice." The financial incentives for information on Salamandra The Merchant's Guild is sponsoring have given results. We've discovered the locations of two bases of operations. All we need is to find someone to wipe clean the lizards' nests. The official authorities' involvement will be kept to a minimum."
"A job perfect for a witcher with amnesia?"
Triss' thoughts exactly, though she let that question unanswered.
"I assume you've resolved matters with Leuvaarden as well?" Keira continued.
"Yes, I made him an offer and he accepted. He claimed his superiors had similar plans, but we beat them to it. Men! Can do nothing but talk and then claim the initiative."
"Careful, Triss. The Nilfgaardian is capable of handing over his mother, needed be. Anything goes wrong and he'll throw you to the wolves."
"You're mistaken. I have him under control. And not just him. They're all eating out of my hand."
"And your witcher?"
Another stinging remark. As much as Triss longed for those words to be true, they felt like an insult. Keira knew as well as Triss who Geralt or did not belong to. You'll have to do better to bait me, Triss stifled her annoyance. Showing any soft points to anyone from the Lodge would be to invite a flock of vultures to a feast.
"I should be able to convince him," she forced a smile.
Triss knew all too well that Geralt could be as immovable as a mountain when something went against his personal code, which had gotten them into fierce arguments in the past. But Triss would never show anything else but strength and capability to the Lodge. As the youngest member, Triss always felt that she had something to prove. Furthermore, she was constantly aware that she would not find much understanding for anything else but strenght. That's why she had to persuade the witcher to do what she needed to be done.
"Don't overdo it. Geralt can be exceptionally perceptive..."
"Triss?"
Geralt was calling.
Like you should know him better than me, she wished to retort to Keira, but she just took a deep breath and settled for "I know. I must get back. I'll contact you when it's all over."
"Never let the witcher guess what you're hiding from him," Keira added, before her figure shimmered and the mirror's surface returned to its normal state.
Keira had to have the last word, Triss thought annoyed, moving away from the mirror.
o0o
Triss had it all figured out in her head as she stepped towards the bed. The approach she had in mind never failed her - well, except with Geralt, but that was before. Before he got amnesia, and before she cared for him at Kaer Morhen 5 months 3 weeks and… 5 days ago. They shared the same bed on Imbolc's night, one last time before they both went on their way. Some of the most cherished memories she had, something she would never forget. He responded keenly to her every motion and desire. Triss was positive he would amiable after she nursed him back to health yet again, but she put more sway into her hips nonetheless.
"Should you be up already?"
Geralt rose slowly from her bed, pausing when he placed his bare feet on the plush carpet covering the wooden floor, as if unsure if he could stand.
"Who were you talking to?" he asked while he rose unsteady.
"You heard me? Ah... Sorceress business. Don't worry about it. I'd rather make sure you've recovered completely," she answered, while she stopped only inches apart from him, placing her hands on his chest.
He met her gaze with an inscrutable expression. "How?"
"Don't tell me you've forgot already since our last encounter," she gazed up at him and smiled while her hands traced slowly down his body.
"Triss, I don't think I can..."
Triss' self-confidence took a blow when she discovered his lack of erection, and doubt in her appeal for Geralt returned with a vengeance. He had been the only one to ever resist her womanly charms, a long time ago when he was with Yennefer. But Geralt didn't currently remember Yennefer, who was presently missing. So what was the reason for his turn off? Triss felt heat creeping her neck, dread threatening to choke her. She couldn't bear it if he rejected her now, not when she stood flushed against him in a see-through lacy nightgown with her hand in his trousers. There would be no consolation whatsoever this time.
But then she suddenly remembered a piece of private information about witchers that her friend Yennefer had shared with her a very long time ago. "Witchers might have the stamina of ten men," Yennefer told her, but they are useless when intoxicated."
The potions had temporary negative effects on the witcher's body, but Yennefer seemed by no means discouraged by it. An easy and very practical spell was how Yennefer dealt with such inconvenience. For someone with Triss' expertise in healing magic and human anatomy, such spell was but a simple trifle. She didn't dwell on the fact that she was about to use her best friend's spell on her best friend's lover. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Stop thinking.
"Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit," Triss smiled up at him while unlacing his trousers and grabbing his flaccid penis in her fist. She held his gaze while kneeling, and with a soft murmur whispered an inch from her hand, magically compelling his blood to flow into his member. She began to stroke him slowly but firmly, sensing him engorge and harden fast under her touch, while she kept looking up at his stern face. When she pressed her lips on the broad head and gave it a small lick, he groaned and dropped his head back, closing his eyes.
Geralt's reaction pleased Triss to no end. She felt empowered by his response to her and confident that by the end of the night she'll have him wrapped around her little finger. She bent wholeheartedly on her task. Her hand squeezed his rigid shaft at the base and guided it to her mouth, rubbing it against her moist lips, liking it, and circling the crown with her tongue. Geralt grabbed her head, fingers knotting in her hair that waved freely around her face. He lowered his head, his chin touching his chest, his white hair draped around his angular face, and he watched her mouth on his shaft. When she caught his intense gaze, Triss gave his length one slow lick from the base to the top, making him curse. She smiled against his soft flesh imbued with a musky, masculine odor. Her tongue circled playfully around the velvety top one more time before she pressed her lips tightly around it and slid them down, sucking him into her mouth. His hips bucked forward in an attempt to bury himself deeper, so deep until she almost choked.
"Holy shit," he groaned. His hands clutched her head more vigorously and led her, urging her movements. Her fingers still curled around the base of his shaft pumped up and down in rhythm with her mouth, there where her lips couldn't reach. Geralt fisted his hands in her hair tugging almost painfully at it. His heated reactions and low guttural sounds spurred her and fueled her own arousal. Moaning around him, she took his length more aggressively, sucking him greedy. Deeper.
Her body yearned for his touch, to have his hard, hot, throbbing flesh thrusting inside her.
"Geralt, I want you inside me."
He pulled on her hair and jerked her head back, his sharp gaze meeting hers. With both hands, he clutched both sides of her head and forced her to rise up. He turned around and pressed her down, bending her over the bed, shoving her legs apart with his own. Using one hand firmly locked in her hair to hold her in place, he used the other to lift her nightgown to her waist and quickly remove the lacy undergarment she wore. He grabbed her legs in turn and positioned her knees up on the edge of the bed. Triss looked back at him over her shoulder, biting her lips. Geralts hard face was generally difficult to read, but there was an intense, dangerous look in his eyes.
"Spread your knees," he snarled.
With his free hand he palmed her sex, spreading her flesh with his callous fingers, two of them dipping inside her. She gasped at the contact, which was gone in a heartbeat.
"Spread wider, real wide."
Triss arched back and spread her legs wider for him, her flesh throbbing to be rubbed after the loss of contact. When he gripped his shaft and sank it deep into her heat, Triss cried out in shock and pleasure. Shivers of pleasure rocked her body and she almost came that instant.
But Geralt stilled for a short moment. In one single move he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it at his feet. That was all the time he gave her to recover before he locked his hands on her hips, pushing her forward and back in pace with his firm, deep thrusts. There was nothing else left in her awareness but the intense pleasure spreading from the depths of her core each time he filled her, her own loud moans filling the room a testament to that.
He kneaded hard the flesh of her round ass - a perfect contrast to the tingling stimulation he was filling her with. Triss gripped the sheets tight in her hands to ground herself. One of Geralt's hands moved up her back, and pressed her chest down, which increased the friction of her sensitive nipples against the sheets. The onslaught of sensations was driving her mad, and she brought a white knuckle to her mouth to bite on and lick.
So good, Triss thought, and judging by the deep, guttural grunts Geralt was making, he thought so too.
Geralt used the hand on her back to remove her hair from her face, moving it to the side. He stroke his fingers along her jaw almost like a caress before he grabbed her neck, holding her tight while his pounding intensified. She was on the verge of climax.
"Harder, Geralt, I'm so close," she cried between panting breaths.
"Not yet."
"Why did you..." Her sentence was cut short and she gasped when the thick head of his shaft slick with her juices slipped shortly inside her ass. He pulled out and rubbed up and down against her folds, teasing her clit and her opening.
She was trembling and could only plead his name unintelligibly and press back against him, needing him to fill her again, craving the release that had been at hand and was now eluding her. But the broad head of his shaft slipped in and out of her ass once again, then rubbing against her wet folds, teasing her.
In one move he leaned over her body until his medallion dangled along her jaw, pressing himself to the hilt inside her ass. White hot light flooded her vision at the novel sensation of pleasure bordering on pain, making her gasp. Hovering his mouth over her ear, Geralt whispered "You can't turn me on and off at your whim, Triss."
Triss shuddered, his thick voice sending shivers down her spine, his hot breath caressing her cheek. Every inch of her skin was tingling violently, her heart raced and her breaths were hived pants.
"You wanna bet?" she challenged through panted breaths, tightening her muscles around him. She chuckled with satisfaction at his moaned response.
"Give it your best then," Geralt answered through gritted teeth.
"Well, I can't in this position."
"Too bad. Then you'll have to suck it up. This is what you called for, isn't it?"
He cupped her neck with one hand and grabbed her upper arm with the other, yanking her up with him until she stood on her knees with her back against his chest while he kept buried inside her ass. She gasped again, breathless at the way this new position stretched her. He hold her tight against him and kept whispering in her ear while he moved slowly in and out of her tight ass.
"Is this what you called for? Answer me, Triss. You want me to fuck you?"
His guttural voice in her ear kept sending shivers down her spine, and she trembled and pressed herself against him.
"Geralt," she moaned helplessly. She hadn't seen this side of him during their bed tumbles five months ago. Geralt had been gentle with her while he pleased her.
"You want me to fuck you, ask me for it."
"Please, Geralt, don't stop, don't stop, please."
"Don't stop? Say it, Triss. Say what you want from me."
She flushed, warmth flowing out of each pore of her body, not out of shyness, but out of desire. Triss was used to being in charge of whatever happened in an intimate situation, and she relished in Geralt's tender lovemaking five months ago. But being at the mercy of his strong body, letting him take the reins and surrendering herself to him thrilled her and aroused her more than she cared for.
"I want you to fuck me, Geralt. I want you to make me come."
He pulled out of her and grabbed one of her legs by the ankle and flipped her around, turning her over on her back. She barely registered what happened, only a sudden sense of vertigo dawned on her before he lowered his upper body above her, bringing her left leg up on his shoulder while entering her at the same time. He pressed his weight against her, sheathing himself to the hilt, and Triss let out a loud moan at the delicious sensation of his shaft wedged deep inside her folds.
Locking his hands behind her neck and his eyes with hers, he began pounding her. Triss couldn't sustain his intense gaze for long under his renewed onslaught. She writhed beneath him as much as Geralt's tight lock of her body allowed. Her head thrashed against the sheets and her hands gripped everything she could grab. His gaze didn't falter from her face, but one of his hands ran down her neck and chest, lowering her nightgown, revealing and kneading her breasts. When her head fell back, lips parted with her moans, he moved his hand against her jaw, and with his thumb he caressed her lower lip. She sought his thumb with her tongue and licked it, and he slipped it in her mouth. She closed her eyes and sucked on it greedily.
"Fuck, yes Triss, like that."
She smiled pleased and Geralt moved his hand kneading hard on her breasts in turn while he pumped relentlessly in and out of her again and again and again. She grabbed his taut arm firmly and sank her nails into his damp skin. Holding on tight, she lifted her hips to meet his in time. Waves of pleasure rolled through her body, pooling heavily deep inside her, making her frantic to the point of no return.
"There you go," he grunted. "Come, Triss."
She arched her back, body tense as a wire when pleasure exploded inside her. With deep thrusts Geralt sheathed his shaft inside her twitching folds, releasing his hot seed, amplifying her pleasure. With a last shuddering groan, he fell besides her and lay himself on the bed on his back.
When her heart began to slow down, and her breath returned to normal, Triss turned on her side and cuddled against him, hugging his arm at her chest, inhaling deeply the mingled odors of their bodies and sighing content.
o0o
Triss woke up draped around Geralt's chest. She smiled and nuzzled her nose against his warm skin. Geralt tensed, hard muscles twitching. When Triss turned her head and looked up, she met his intent gaze. He wasn't sleeping. He lay resting his back against the pillows, one arm bent behind his head. The room was shrouded in semi-darkness, most bright light blocked by long, heavy curtains covering the windows. The curtains couldn't keep the summer heat out just as well, though.
Triss stretched her naked body, giving Geralt a full view of her high, plump breasts. Then she drew near him again, settling her head back on his chest but facing him, her hair covering him like a silk red blanket.
Pillow talk, she thought. The stuff that can make or break the world.
"You've been naughty last night," she smiled, drawing the tips of her fingers along the well defined muscles of his arm.
"You shouldn't spur me like that, I'm not your goddamn chew-toy."
"You surprised me, Geralt. I can't say I'm sorry for that. In fact, it's been most enticing."
"Don't get any ideas, Triss. You're playing with fire."
"But I like playing with fire," she grinned.
"And you call me naughty. I think you're…" He stilled for a second. "Someone's coming."
A moment of tense silence was followed by three faint knocks on the door.
"It's Sedona," Triss said. She sighed at the regrettable interruption, and reached for the dressing gown at the end of the bed. Wrapping it around her she turned, taking in the view of his strong, naked body and partly aroused shaft before she said "Cover yourself, Geralt. I'd rather you didn't shock my maid."
Her young maid entered just as Geralt threw a sheet over himself. Triss walked to meet her at the other end of the large room, there where she froze in place with her eyes peered on the bed. When Triss finally got her attention, she shortly instructed the young woman to draw a bath and prepare breakfast for two, then sent her quickly out again.
But by the time Triss returned to Geralt, it was already too late. He was out of bed and lacing his trousers.
"Triss... How did I get here?"
"You've been lucky," she answered, setting herself on the stool at her dressing table. "I've been scanning for magical anomalies, and I found the magical trace left by the spells casted in the swamp last night."
She reached for her hairbrush, looking at him through the mirror. He stilled and came to stand behind her, their eyes meeting in the mirror.
"Thank you, Triss."
Just as he was about to turn away, she said "I know you found the one responsible for the attack at Kaer Morhen."
"You've read my mind?"
"I had no choice but to read your thoughts to learn about your injuries and which poisons you took this time."
"I'm sure you read beyond that."
"I couldn't help it. Your thoughts were quite loud... In any case, I know about your recent adventures… I could help you out, Geralt. I wish you had called me."
"I don't want to see you hurt again, Triss. Last time that bastard almost killed you."
"Let me worry about that, won't you? Besides, I don't want to see you hurt either. Let us work together on this."
"Why get into this, Triss? This isn't your fight. Don't you have more important business to take care of at the Court?"
"Oh, now that you mention it, I had nearly forgot," Triss said, turning to face him. "There is a banquet at the New Narracort this evening. Come with me, Geralt. We can discuss this further."
"I don't like banquets." He turned and reached for his shirt.
"Important people will attend. Everyone who's anyone in this city will be there. It's a good opportunity to make acquaintance, gather information and maybe get some work contracts. I know Leuvaarden, a merchant, wants to see you. He hosts the banquet."
"I don't know…," he said while searching for the rest of his belongings.
"Princess Adda will be there. Who's curse you lifted? Apparently she's slightly obsessed with you."
"I'll think about it."
Triss rose and walked to him, stilling his search. "I'll be there," she said, placing her arms around his neck, reaching up for his lips, using her weight to pull him down. "Playing with fire. Won't you come play with me?"
"All right, I'm convinced. Maybe I can gather some information there."
To her delight, Geralt placed his hands on her hips, drawing her against his hard body. What followed was not what Triss anticipated.
"Triss, where is my sword?"