Drawing
(Author's Note: This story is based on TW3 and takes place after my story 'Family'. However, it is a standalone, and all you need to know is that our favorite couple is engaged!)
Underneath a blanket of dark velvet sky and stars which cheerfully lit the night, a Witcher and a Sorceress sat in the cobblestone courtyard of their beloved vineyard, their fingers entwined across the arms of their simple wicker chairs, pointing at the stars, engrossed in a jovial exchange. A person unfamiliar with the pair may assume, justifiably so, that they were newly coupled, that their love was enhanced by the novelty of one another in the way that all budding relationships are enrapturing to start. After all, passion is rarely a sustainable quality, and it was clear to all who beheld the current scene that passion burned bright between these lovers.
Yet the truth was that this particular pair were the oldest of mates, having known and liked and loved one another for many decades and never once having found their passion dulled. They were as drunk on each other now as they had been the very first time they realized they were in love, and the bond they shared was one that was impossible for most sensible people to comprehend.
And so it was that on this night, as Geralt of Rivia and Yennefer of Vengerberg each once again found themselves unable to keep their hands off the other, unknowingly blocking out the rest of the world because their world needed only consist of one another, the workers of Corvo Bianco marveled at how a relationship that had stood for so long could still keep its members so enthralled.
"I can't imagine loving someone for that long," one had said.
"How do they still have so much to talk about?" mused a second.
"Look how they make each other laugh," yet another had remarked.
Many things were said in admiration, envy, or plain disbelief of this couple, but by far the most common refrain was, "I didn't think true love was real until I met them."
Geralt heard it often. People didn't think true love was real, but when they saw him and Yennefer together, so deeply in love after so many long years, they realized their mistake. It made him proud to be talked about like this. It made him prouder that the reason he was talked about like this was Yennefer.
His fiancée.
"Look, my love." She gestured toward the night sky. His heart jolted, the way it did every time she called him that. "Is that the Belt of Ashne? It certainly looks different this far south."
"It is, and yeah, it does look really different. But I think The Harbinger looks even more warped down here. See its head?"
"You're right. Those stars don't form a horned helmet so much as a spread-eagled whore."
"I love how academic your analysis is."
"You just love me."
"That is also true." They squeezed each other's hand at this.
"Do you know what's odd for me, though?"
"Hmm?"
"I can't see Iquius. I'm used to it being the brightest star in the North. Many of my spells are oriented toward it."
"It's not as bright, but it's here. See? It's right beneath The Hooded Hare."
"Sorry, the what?"
"The Hooded Hare. That one," he pointed to a cluster of stars that made perfect sense to him.
"My love," his heart jolted once more, "I think you're speaking gibberish again."
"First of all, what do you mean 'again'?" A playful smirk. "Second, no, I'm not. Vesemir taught us all about it when we were learning celestial navigation. It's in the middle of those other animal constellations, and its right ear always points west. 'The Hooded Hare is the heart of the herd; it listens westward on its starboard'."
"Geralt," Yennefer laughed, "do you honestly not hear how made-up that sounds? I think Vesemir drank too much one evening, fancied himself an astrologist, and decided to wax poetic at you boys. And you fell for it!"
"It's not made up, Yen! Look, it's right there! The Hooded Hare!"
"I don't see anything remotely resembling a hare, much less a hooded one."
"You need to study your constellations more."
She feigned offense. "Excuse me, but do you truly believe that I, Yennefer of Vengerberg, have been able to accomplish all that I have in the realms of sorcery and spell craft without a profound and thorough knowledge of astrology?"
"No, which is why I think it's ludicrous that you don't know about The Hooded Hare. It's right there."
"I am looking, but I just do not see it. What does it look like?"
"Here, let me…" Geralt took her hand – the one that he had been holding – and turned up her palm. With his finger, he began to draw on it the constellation as he saw it in his mind's eye.
Yennefer chuckled. "Was that meant to be a hare, Geralt?"
"What else would it have been?"
"It felt like a turnip to me."
"What? No, it's The Hooded Hare! Alright, I'll do it again. Pay attention this time." He drew the same pattern on her hand once more.
Yennefer laughed a bit louder. "That is not anything resembling a long-eared animal. I'm starting to doubt your overall artistic skills."
"I draw just fine."
"Is that the truth? Here, let's start simple, then. Draw a circle on my palm."
He obliged.
"Mmm, more of an unconnected oval, but alright. Now draw a heart."
He obliged again.
"But that was a hare, not a heart! Dearest, how are you able to cast such intricate Signs with those fingers and yet the prospect of tracing a simple shape is beyond you?"
"It's not that easy! Let's see you try it," he protested indignantly, although in truth, he was cherishing every moment of this night. There were no words to describe how much he loved spending time with her.
"Alright, then," she accepted the challenge, ever the competitor. "Observe and learn, Witcher."
Geralt turned up his palm to her, though his mood immediately changed. When she drew a circle on his skin, a shiver of desire ran up his spine.
"Wasn't that a perfect circle?"
"Sure, Yen," he indulged her.
She drew her next shape. He felt a low burn in his groin. "And what was that?"
"A heart?" He heard his own voice turning softer, more hoarse. He was struggling to maintain his composure.
She looked into his eyes inquiringly, then began to draw a series of shapes against his skin – each causing him to lose himself more. It took him a moment to realize that she was writing runes. …ite your awful artistic skills, I will love you forever.
"Yen…" He enclosed her hand in his again and saw that her eyes burned with a mirror reflection of his passion. He did not know enough words to tell her what she meant to him.
So he simply captured her lips with his.
The kiss started slow, tender, and deep but quickly heated to something much more urgent. He found his hands everywhere on her – in her hair, stroking her neck, caressing her cheek, hovering just over the breasts that he tingled with pleasure at the mere thought of. She, in turn, used her quick, adroit fingers to unfasten each button and tie there was to his already loosened shirt, running her nails across the skin of his bare chest, triggering explosions of ecstasy behind his closed eyelids. He felt her move toward his suddenly too-tight trousers, and it was all he could do to steady her hand; he was vaguely aware of eyes staring embarrassedly but curiously, maybe even enviously at them.
"Take me inside, Geralt," she purred in his ear in a voice that caused him to shudder. Two could play at that game.
"Yeah?" he whispered before nipping at the lobe of her ear. He smiled triumphantly as he heard her gasp and press her body against him in search of more pleasure. "What do you want me to do to you inside?"
"I want you to show me what you can really do with those fingers."
Geralt obeyed gladly, planning ways for him to restore the reputation of his dexterity that had absolutely nothing to do with drawing.