A / N - okay this is kind of carrying on from 'When a Squirrel Meets a Dh'oine' although could be read alone - but the first story may explain a bit more and add more depth. i got a little bit carried away and i'm undecided whether i want to carry this on and see where it leads... feedback would be grateful! enjoy!

p.s. i have used words from the Elder Tongue that can be easily and quickly translated through Google/ The Witcher wiki

disclaimer: Iorveth is not my character and i own no rights to the Witcher 2. the female character however is my own creation. this was written for entertainment purposes, not profit.

Chapter One

Iorveth's visits had become more frequent. After their experience in the forest, it had been several weeks until the elf had chanced a visit to Lorella's room above the inn at first. She had arrived back from her excursion relatively unscathed yet smug, and didn't even wince when Dyson yelled himself hoarse at her. This seemed to shock the innkeeper the most; he was used to making people afraid and cower in a corner. He had watched the young woman not even bat an eyelid after this outburst. As a result, he had grown more respect for her, so decided to let her keep her job, lowered her hours and even offered a higher rate of pay and better room. Immensely confused by this, Lorella had to force herself to bite her tongue when she wanted to know why. Instead, she accepted this gracefully and made her way to her new room at the inn, of which was vastly roomier and had a comfy looking bed that could easily fit three people. She had lain between the crisp sheets that night, recounting the event with the infamous elf and touched herself over the thought of him.

She thought of Iorveth more and more over the next few days, wondering why she hadn't seen hid nor hair, thinking back to his frequent visits over the two weeks. After a fortnight of this pathetic pining, she pushed all thoughts of the handsome elf out her mind – yet remained unsated. Despite their casual, animalistic sexual escapades, she could help but have formed feelings for him. Of course, it was ridiculous – a human falling for the Scoia'tael leader!

One late evening, however, she found herself in the whorehouse, requesting an appointment with Margot. Lorella waited around for half an hour until the exotic-looking woman finally appeared, throwing her arms out wide.

"Darling," she purred, kissing Lorella on each cheek. "And what do I owe this pleasure?"

Lorella cleared her throat awkwardly and lowered her voice. "It's about the… proposition you made me all that time ago, if the invitation remains open."

Margot positively beamed and swooped to kiss her again. "But of course. Have you finally left the job that worthless fool Dyson gave you?"

"Ah, no, I'm still there, I just don't work as much," Lorella explained. A flush crept up onto her cheeks as she saw several women walking around in tight, ill-fitting corsets.

"Ah, but you may leave him for this place soon enough," said Margot, grabbing Lorella's upper arm and steering her upstairs. "I can give you a trial run first, see how you cope with all of this, then we'll go from there. I have a client I would like you to meet."

Lorella mumbled an unintelligible reply and instead marched up the stairs where Margot led her. The whore opened a door that led to a large room, and indicated a man sat on one of the chairs by the window. He had his head bowed, so his face remain unseen, even as the two women entered. Another man was present, too: he was dark and willowy, with a small triangular shaped goatee. His eyes lit up as he turned his attention to the women.

"Aha! And what beautiful young thing is this?" he asked, sweeping his hat from his head and bowing low. He cupped Lorella's hand in his and kissed it several times.

"Away with you, Dandelion," said Margot impatiently, flapping her free hand at him. "Lorella, this is Geralt of Rivia."

The man by the window raised his head when he heard his name. He had white blond hair that hovered just below his shoulders and piercing yellow eyes that raked Lorella's physique as she approached him. He stood and bowed, keeping his eyes on her delicate face. Lorella found him strangely attractive – maybe it was the taught physique or the way he looked at her, impassive yet gentle. Her first assumption was that he had been with a lot of women.

"Geralt is a witcher, and passing through Flotsam," Margot explained, seemingly unaware that the man couldn't tear his eyes away from this young woman who was so evidently new to the whorehouse. Lorella dragged her gaze away with difficulty, feeling slightly awkward that the witcher barely blinked as he surveyed her.

"A pleasure," he said in a deep baritone. His gaze wandered down her slender neck and lingered on her plump breasts for a moment before he turned to Margot. "It would be unwise for me to linger too long. I am to find Triss, lest you forget."

"Of course," Margot said, waving a hand airily. "I forget about your reasons here and dealings with Scoia'tael."

The word pierced Lorella's heart like a shard of ice. What did the Scoia'tael have to do with this? Was Iorveth involved? What was going on?

Geralt turned to Lorella, and appeared to notice that her demeanour had changed. "I assume this young lady will be servicing me?"

Lorella didn't answer and merely gazed out the window. Something bad was going on – although this witcher didn't seem like a bad person, so why was he associating with the elves? It would be unwise for her to question all of this, lest she look like a spy. Of course she was nothing of the sort; a casual liaison with the Scoia'tael leader in return for her life didn't make her a spy. At least she hoped not…

She was quiet for so long that Margot elbowed her impatiently in the ribs to spur her into talking.

"She will if you require it," said Margot, hiding her irritability well.

"Another time," replied Geralt in his deep, gravelly voice. Lorella caught the look of longing and mischievous glint in his eyes, causing her to blush again.

"Of course." Margot curtseyed, then turned to Lorella. "Perhaps you should return again tomorrow evening, my dear?"

By the suggestive note in her voice, Lorella took this as her cue to leave. Bowing respectfully and muttering a hasty goodbye, she fled the brothel. Night had fallen now; the wind that blew was cold and nothing stirred. As quick as possible, Lorella scuttled back to the inn and fled up the wooden stairs. She was not in the mood for unwanted attention by drunken patrons tonight. She burst into her room and shut the door behind her, hastily sliding the bolts across to keep unwelcome visitors out. Sighing, she turned to her bed – only there was already someone sitting on it.

She recognised the sharp profile first. Even in the gloom, it was distinguishable. Despite the recognition, Lorella remained by the door, paralysed – by fear?

"Hello, dh'oine," came the deep voice of Iorveth. He didn't move from the bed, though sought out her sweet scent and faced her direction.

"What are you doing here?" she asked breathlessly. She couldn't help but feel afraid that he was here to kill her. That was what he did to most humans, after all. Despite him visiting her a couple of weeks prior, she didn't expect to see him again. He'd got what he wanted, and her debt was 'paid in full', as he had reminded her. So why was he here?

"To see you." He stated it baldly, as if it were obvious. Finally he stood up from the edge of the bed and approached her. Lorella's sweet scent assaulted his acute sense of smell. He breathed in deeply and nuzzled her neck. She remained still, taken aback by this display of affection. This wasn't how it usually went. Protocol dictated that Iorveth sneak through her window in the late hours of the night, pinning her down on her bed before ravaging her; her screams and whimpers usually muffled by his hand. After, he would depart, sated, leaving her asleep and feeling alone come morning. This is what had happened over the past weeks; now it had changed, she couldn't help but worry if this was a trap, if he was sick of her now he had got what he wanted and decided to silence her forever.

"Iorveth –" she began, but he held a finger to her lips.

"I tried to stay away from you," he murmured into her ear. "I tried to tell myself that you were just a human, a revolting dh'oine with whom I did not want to be associated with. I despise humans – surely you know that."

She nodded wordlessly, wondering where this was going. Her heart pounding erratically it was almost painful.

"It seems you're an exception to these rules; to all the rules and boundaries I ever set myself."

Then suddenly his mouth was on his, kissing her with an urgency she had never experienced from anyone, silencing her unvoiced curiosity. During their nights together, they had never kissed once – only fucked lustfully. Lorella could tell that the feral desire was still there, lying under what she could only assume was… love? Some sort of fondness? Iorveth was never affectionate towards her, except for now. She wanted to question it, though a gut feeling told her not to ruin the glorious moment.

Momentarily stunned, she did nothing, but then reciprocated the kiss as if she could not get enough of him. He tasted divine, of mint and lavender and tea – her of wine and candies. Slowly he pushed his tongue into her mouth, both of their tongues massaging each other. Lorella moaned into their kiss, and this proved as some sort of fuel for the elf. Hurriedly, without breaking contact, he threw his weapons to the floor and slipped his clothes off, standing fully naked in the moonlight of the room. Deft hands untied her bodice, undid her skirts and allowed her clothes to be thrown to the floor. Iorveth's calloused hands moved up and down the creamy skin of her torso, causing her to erupt in goose pimples. The contrast of soft skin against his roughness was enough to make his crotch stir. He was already fully erect and pushed his impressive length towards Lorella so that it nudged her stomach.

Iorveth picked up the delicate human, supporting her weight by clutching her buttocks. She broke away from their kiss with a sound like a plunger as he laid her gently on the bed. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it usually went. Surely it was a trap? Why had he changed his mind about what he wanted? She eyed his weapons in the corner of the room. Thought if he had planned something, he hadn't made it so apparent – but thus his slyness was evident and in his nature.

Lorella opened her mouth to speak, finally feeling she should voice her concerns – though was quickly silenced once again by the elf inserting his middle finger into her. She was already wet from her prior surprise and arousal and squirmed beneath him. Worry turned to surprise as Iorveth trailed light kisses down her neck to her collar bone, then her stomach and finally inner thigh. Using his tongue, he expertly flicked her swollen clitoris and smirked when she gasped. This was another first… It had been blatantly apparent that Iorveth didn't believe in pleasing a woman this way. Usually he was the one that got this kind of oral attention, not her.

Her back arched as he licked her pussy more vigorously, lapping away at her juices. He inserted another digit and built up a steady rhythm of fingering her. For a brief moment, he wondered why he had been so selfish when they had previously fornicated, then realised why the whole thing started. The dh'oine had roamed his forest, uninvited and unannounced, so bent her to his every will. But now, he felt something else – a satisfaction that ran deep within him as he felt this woman writhe beneath his face, rubbing her sex against his mouth as she urged him to go faster. He enjoyed that he was making her feel so good, but also confused; the affection he felt towards her contrasted greatly with his deep hatred of humans, of all their species. That was why he stayed away. The last time they met, he fled in the early hours of the morning as he always did, though was then torn with the desire to stay, to watch her sleep and smooth her chestnut brown hair back from her face. Her inhuman beauty mesmerised him. He didn't want to care for her, but on the contrary, he found he very much did, and this puzzled him. It was just sex. That was all it had been – he would fuck her raw, come inside her or anywhere else on her body, and leave. Now feelings had wormed their way into the situation and, although mildly disgusted with himself by his change of heart, couldn't help them. This visit was not planned by him, and had found himself deftly making his way through the forest and through the window of her room, sitting in wait. He had almost left when she entered, and it felt as if the world had been put to rights when he saw her.

Iorveth continued to eat at her pussy, inserting a third finger inside her. She moaned louder, and the sound was his weakness. Slowing to a halt, he crouched above her, their noses touching, using his arms as leverage. Lorella saw his mouth was moist from her arousal and she bit her lip subconsciously. It had felt so good. The elf lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her passionately and making her taste the salty tang of her wetness. She tasted delicious and he wanted more.

"Fuck me," she breathed, her bosom heaving. Her hips grinded against his crotch, the elf's length rubbing along her moisture. He closed his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Opening his eyes a moment later, he looked down to her pussy. Even through the gloom, his acute sight registered the pink wetness. So delicate, and so deserving of a hard pounding, he thought, but he wasn't going to do that tonight.

Not answering her question, Iorveth teased the head of his cock around her tight entrance. Her breathing became more laboured as he pushed it in, inch by inch, until he buried inside her. He flexed his cock and smirked as her eyes rolled back, revealing their whites at this new sensation. A slow rhythm ensued, his slightly curved cock stroking her g-spot as he moved in and out. Lorella's tantalising fingers encased the elf's muscular biceps and her nails dug in as he thrust deeper and faster each time. Unperturbed by this, Iorveth picked up tempo, in return earning himself deep marks and scratches down his arms. He gritted his teeth, enjoying the mild pain in exchange for pleasure, for making this woman feel good.

She bit down on her bottom lip as the elf's pace became more urgent. Suddenly, he grabbed her smooth legs and hoisted them onto his shoulders and leaned down towards her so her knees nearly touched her ears. Her breathing became more laboured as his thrusts became fast and sharp, nudging her g-spot all the more.

"Ohh, I'm going to come," she gasped, her eyes widening and then shutting as wave after wave of ecstasy stole over her. She cried out, a long, high-pitched not, her pussy dripping with moisture as she climaxed, dribbling down between her buttocks. Surprisingly, Iorveth slowed down, allowing her to recuperate after such an intense orgasm. She watched him somewhat warily as he pulled out of her, a ghost of a smile playing around his mouth.

"Bend over for me." He said it softly, more as a request than a demand. As obligingly as ever, Lorella crouched down onto all fours, her legs trembling from the aftermath of her climax. She couldn't see what Iorveth was doing, even as she craned her head round and tried to see through the gloom. All of a sudden she felt his mouth eat her precious vagina as she bent over, licking the wetness off the dainty pink lips. Slowly, she felt his tongue slide up between ass cheeks, then feeling his tongue probe at the puckered skin. Startled, she let out a sharp gasp, unsure as to whether she liked this. Then all action stopped, and she felt the elf's huge cock enter her again. She was alarmed by his steadiness, as if not wanting to hurt her – admittedly, after their previous encounters, Lorella had always felt like she had been ripped into two afterwards.

Iorveth pulled the woman's arms, taking away her support and held them firmly behind her back. Only then did he increase tempo, light slapping noises sounding throughout the quietness of the room. He began to rub her clit in fast circles with his free hand, and thus she felt an orgasm stealing over her once more. Her soft cry seemed to be his undoing, as he slammed in and out of her repeatedly, his thrusts becoming more urgent.

"Make me come now," he whispered, a thin sheet of perspiration coating his toned and scarred body as he continued to fuck her at a fast pace. She didn't reply, mainly being unable to form coherent sentences as she felt the large cock invade her pussy over and over again.

With one last slam into her, Iorveth came, spilling his seed inside her with a long, guttural groan. He threw his head back as his cock gave several short bursts, then withdrew, feeling his shaft pulsate as he did so. He lay back on the bed, fully spent and panting, and watched Lorella as she got up from the bed, avoiding his gaze as she pulled on a nightshirt. Almost automatically, she passed Iorveth his clothes, which he took, though made no effort to move. Lorella lit a few candles which through the sensual curves of her body into more relief. She turned to face the handsome elf, an odd expression on her beautiful face.

"Aren't you leaving?" she asked, somewhat cautiously. She folded her arms into a defensive stance and leant against the chest of drawers against the wall.

Iorveth raised an eyebrow. "I will if you require me to."

"No, it's not that, it's just… don't you usually?" She became increasingly nervous. "Will you please tell me what's going on?" she added, almost begging. It was almost too pathetic to behold, but he graced her with an answer nevertheless.

"I thought I explained myself rather clearly," he said simply, lifting his arms and holding his hands behind his head. He fidgeted with the crimson bandana that covered a gruesome scar on his face, ensuring it was secured.

"You didn't."

He eyed her, amused. "I said you were an exception to the rules, young dh'oine. It must mean a lot for you to hear that, coming from a notorious slaughterer of humans. I am not here to kill you," he added, as if sensing her fears from earlier.

Lorella remained quiet, only fidgeted with her nightshirt, still as puzzled as before.

"You are sceptical."

"How can you tell?"

"It's written all over your face," he replied with a cocky sort of smile. He sighed, mildly impatient with her dim attitude as she proceeded to look blank. "Sit down."

She obliged and perched herself on the edge of the bed careful not to touch him. She couldn't help but notice his cock, even now. Although flaccid, it still proved to be impressive. Instead, her eyes drifted over his incredibly toned torso, drinking in the silhouetted of muscles and the skin peppered with battle scars. She jumped slightly as Iorveth sat up and placed his face close to hers.

"You've no reason to be afraid of me. Not anymore," he added nothing more than a whisper, his olive green eyes boring into her amber ones. "I care for you, my beautiful dh'oine. I resented this at first, as nothing would have repulsed me more than forming feelings for a human" – Lorella fidgeted uncomfortably at this – "but I cannot be afraid or disgusted by that anymore. I am still a man, a living being with emotions, contrary to popular belief. I want you as mine." He kissed the porcelain skin of her shoulder as she tried to register this.

"So I'm safe? I don't have to worry about you trying to murder me in my bed?" she asked, eyeing him doubtfully.

"You are safe now," he said quietly. "Though, of course, we cannot be seen together. You do realise that?"

She nodded, then a thought occurred to her suddenly. "What makes you think I feel the same way?"

Iorveth chuckled against her shoulder, a magically beautiful sound. "My young dh'oine, what makes you think I have not checked up on you and seen you rubbing that delightful pussy of yours and heard you moaning my name?"

She blanched and then a hot flush crept upon her cheeks, embarrassed and suddenly violated. She cleared her throat awkwardly before saying, "That's a fair point."

Their gaze met again, and her eyes wandered to the red bandana. Slender fingers reached up to touch it and the elf flinched away instinctively, glaring, his lip curled.

"Let me see," she whispered, her eyes sparkling as she surveyed his handsome elven features, completely unperturbed by this display of aggression. She knew it was a defence mechanism, a wall he brought up so as not to let people in or too close.

Begrudgingly, he lifted the material, his good eye avoiding her face, afraid of her reaction. Instead of retching or shying away, she moved closer to him, her soft fingers dancing over the deep purple scar from where his eye should be and down to his lip. He quivered slightly at her touch.

"Does it hurt?" she asked softly.

He shook his head, and felt her sweet breath against his face. As light as a feather, she kissed the base of the scar and up to his eye socket, planting kisses like a whisper here and there.

"You are still beautiful to me," she breathed in his pointed ear before kissing him full on the mouth.

He reciprocated hungrily, feeling a strange surge of affection for this woman. This human had undeniably stole his heart – the sooner he accepted that, the better. Right now, he couldn't imagine spending another night away from her. There was something about her that he couldn't quite place his finger on: she was beautiful, in an elven way, which may have contributed to this attraction. She laughed easily and had the sweetest, most intoxicating smell of any woman he had met, and he had taken plenty to his bed over the long span of his life. He closed his eyes as she stroked his cheek, his hand tangled in her hair, until she broke apart to breathe. She wore an odd look – was it guilt?

"There's a witcher in town," she said uneasily, sitting back comfortably on the bed, legs crossed.

"And?" he said shortly, then regretted his impatient manner. She merely narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance.

"I thought you might know something."

"Why the witcher is here is no concern of yours," he told her, gentler this time. He turned his body to face her and stroked the creamy skin of her thigh.

"You're working with him," she said at once, noting the change in his demeanour. True, she didn't have too much common sense – look where she had begun with Iorveth – but she could read body language.

The elf didn't deny this. "He needs help, and I have offered it to him in return for his trust and… services."

"But surely –"

"Enough," Iorveth said sharply, shooting her a glare. She returned this dirty looked and pulled her body out of his grasp – though not before lifting his hand and throwing it back at him. She flounced to the window with her back to him and stared out. The slight breeze ruffled her nightshirt, though she did not shiver.

"Margot asked me to service him," she said blandly, betraying no emotion. Though she had not intended on telling anyone this, least of all Iorveth, she still felt a trace of resentment towards him and his harsh tone.

"What?" he said loudly. Lorella didn't turn to face him but knew he had leapt up from the bed. "She asked you to do what?"

"Service Geralt," Lorella repeated, smelling the elf's scent as he moved into position next to her.

"Surely you didn't accept," he growled menacingly, his eyes stuck on her, waiting for an answer.

She shrugged, struggling to supress a smirk as Iorveth became more and more pent up. Only when he grabbed her shoulders and swung her around to face him did her humour vanish in a second.

"Tell me," he snarled, his face an inch away from hers. Lorella shook her head jerkily and he visibly relaxed, and she could tell he instantly regretted losing his temper.

"You are mine," he hissed, somewhat protectively, his fingers digging into her shoulders. "I thought I had made that abundantly clear. I do not risk my life and being seen to see you most nights for nothing, dh'oine."

"Me minne," she whispered, her eyes searching his, seeing the pain reflected in the green iris.

"Me elaine blath," he breathed back in Elder Tongue, smashing his mouth against hers.

They embraced passionately for a time, until Iorveth's cock became rock hard once again. She grasped it delicately with a soft hand, before leading him to bed, where they made love until sunrise.