Seemingly immediately after setting out, Triss fell quite ill on the trail. Geralt genuinely worried for her health, which worried Ciri too. She couldn't remember seeing the witcher so concerned before.

Even when Triss grew so sick she couldn't stay on her horse and had to be held up in Geralt's saddle—Ciri holding the reigns of Triss's gelding and leading it beside her own horse—the magician still insisted upon being bathed, and having her pretty red curls teased out with a comb. And a little more frequently than Ciri deemed necessary. Neither of them complained about Triss though, never made her feel a burden. Ciri was tasked with undressing, and scrubbing her naked body with a washrag. Geralt always managed to avert his gaze as he held Triss upright.

To Ciri it seemed that the enchantress enjoyed being naked in his arms a little too much. One day, in the delusions of fever Ciri reasoned, Triss had tried to plant a kiss on Geralt's lips. He quickly jerked his head aside and then looked to Ciri, his eyes filled with silent apologies. Ever since the enchantress arrived at Kaer Morhen, and even more so since they'd left, it felt to Ciri as though Geralt was growing less interested in their nighttime encounters. But that small look was powerful in dissuading her from those thoughts. The princess just smiled at him, knowing to whom those lips really belonged.

They often camped along the Lixela as they traveled South. Its waters were chilled in early spring, and the river also wound its way lazily South, to merge with the roaring current of the Pontar further down.

They stopped riding for the day, earlier than usual, as Triss was alternately shivering and profusely sweating with fever. The sun was beginning the final stretch of its descent, soon it would sink below the mighty Kestrel Mountains to the West. As it fell in the sky, its light became more rich and golden, making the scintillating water of the Lixela look more inviting than ever. Ciri decided it was high time for her own bath. How many times had she washed Triss since bathing herself? She dismissed the thought.

Geralt arranged stones into a makeshift fire pit beside Triss, who'd fallen deeply asleep as soon as she wasn't in the saddle anymore. He went to collect firewood.

Ciri stripped and waded into the river. She examined her chest, was it her imagination, or had her breasts grown noticably on their short journey so far?

Geralt returned to his little ring of stones and neatly arranged the gathered kindling and branches within. He set it instantly ablaze by performing the Sign of Igni. Ciri caught his eye. She was submerged up to her waist, glistening in the light of the falling sun, which only just touched a peak on the horizon. The girl was staring down at herself as she played with her breasts, squeezing them, pressing them together.

Ciri noticed him watching, grinned and waved.

"Join me!" She called.

Geralt sighed and sadly shook his head.

Ciri contorted her face into mock distress, and splashed water toward the sandy bank with both hands. She soaked for another minute and then decided to dry off before the sun set completely.

Geralt stirred the embers, trying and failing to appear disinterested in the naked girl.

"Hungry?"

"Not for food..." Ciri sighed, walking away and swaying her hips slightly in a manner she'd learned watching Triss back at Kaer Morhen. She took a blanket from the saddle of her chestnut, who, along with Geralt and Triss's horses, was hitched to a branch of a nearby oak. She spread the blanket by the fire, facing away from Geralt and bending over further than she needed to in doing so. Geralt gulped. Ciri giggled.

The girl made herself comfortable. The witcher watched. Ciri continued to tease him. She feigned a yawn and stretched. She crossed and uncrossed her legs.

Sighing and rubbing the back of his neck he whispered, "I know what you want. You know I want it too. But," he glanced at the snoring sorceress bundled snugly by the fire and sighed again. "not now."

Ciri followed his gaze to the sleeping woman.

"We'll just have to be extra quiet..." Ciri slowly spread her legs. The sunset was turning more shades of pink and orange, it cast a marvelous glow over her body. The remaining droplets of river water sparkled on her skin, as did her exposed crotch. Ciri reached down with both hands and gently parted her lips with her fingers.

Geralt momentarily averted his gaze, gulping again. With her hands between her legs she used her biceps to press her breasts together. Another thing she'd learned by observing the magician, although Triss usually did it while leaning over a table or desk. Ciri sighed, closed her eyes beneath long lashes, tossed back her silvery white hair and moaned Geralt's name in a whisper.

Whatever immediate internal struggle the witcher had been dealing with ended. Geralt scooped the giggling girl up and slung her over his shoulder. He carried her away from the fire and the sleeping woman, slapping her bottom when he deemed a safe distance had been achieved. Ciri squealed. He walked along the bank of the river for a minute and laid her down in the sand, still warm from the sun. It was half hidden behind the mountains now, but continued to paint the sky and clouds a multitude of magnificent colors.

"Finally!", Ciri thought as Geralt tore his leather jerkin and undershirt off and knelt and leant over her. He kissed not her lips as she expected but the puffy points of her breasts. Her heart beat wildly at the feeling of his lips; that indescribable sensation contact with his skin produced. He bit her, tugging gently with his teeth at the sensitive area, holding the left side of her chest in his hand and squeezing her. Ciri squirmed at the stimulation.

Geralt grabbed her forcefully by the hips and flipped her over onto her hands and knees, he brushed most of the sand from the curves of her back and bottom. Ciri looked back over her shoulder as she heard his belt being undone. He sprung free of his trousers and whapped into her butt. She wiggled her hips eagerly in response.

Geralt pressed himself between her cheeks. Ciri reached a hand back and spread herself so he would wedge in the crack, and then squeezed him by clenching the muscles of her bottom. Geralt grunted and slapped the plump flesh, perhaps a little too hard. Ciri gasped. She looked back as he began to slide up and down between the cheeks. She saw a single drop of liquid fall viscously from his tip, dripping onto her.

Ciri moaned exaggeratedly. She leant forward, pressing the side her face into the sand and reaching back with both hands to spread her backside further.

Geralt withdrew to absorb the sight. Princess Cirilla spreading and presenting herself to him, bathed in the light of the setting sun, with a single drop of fluid trickling down her inner thigh, was easily the most beautiful and arousing picture he'd ever seen. He would think back to this moment for years every time he felt the urge to pleasure himself.

"Please... Geralt please... I want—" a deep shuddering sigh, "You know what I want."

The witcher gritted his teeth. He wanted nothing more then to give her what she asked for... but he still could not.

Swearing in frustration, he grabbed her legs and forced her thighs together. He marveled at the triangular gap formed by her thighs and pelvis. He grabbed hold of his erection and shoved it through that gap. He thrust his hips into her over and over. Ciri squeezed her legs together as tightly as she could. The friction on the inside of her thighs was intense at first, but she was soon slick with her own arousal, dripping over him. She looked behind her at Geralt holding her hips so tightly she thought it might leave a bruise later. She watched her bottom, jiggling with each impact. Then she looked beneath her. She took in the sight of him protruding between her legs repeatedly. The stimulation of that oversensitive point in her groin combined with the pounding of his hips on hers, proved too much after a couple minute of his steady thrusts. Ciri squirmed and shook, spams wracked her hips.

Geralt spread her bottom again. He watched as those spasms caused her arse to wink at him as it clenched and unclenched. The view nearly caused him to orgasm at the same time. Nearly.

The girl was flipped over again, still shaking. Geralt lifted her butt off the sand and squeezed her thighs back together by hugging her legs close to his body with one arm. Her calves pressed to his chest, her feet reached up by his face. He supported her with his free hand under the small of her back. Ciri felt a little upside-down with her legs in the air and her shoulders in the sand. Geralt poked back through the gap in her thighs, now quite lubricated by Ciri's wetness. Again she felt his hips slamming into her bottom and she moaned. It was less than a minute before he shot hot fluid onto her stomach. It trickled up her body and between her breasts.

He set Ciri back down, breathing heavily. She spread her legs a little so that each foot rested on his shoulders. He ran his hands along her thighs and over her hips where he'd been squeezing her too tightly, rubbing the spot tenderly.

The sun would soon vanish completely behind the Kestrels.

"Now will you take a bath with me?"

Geralt smiled. He removed his trousers the rest of the way and stood lifting the girl. Ciri wrapped her arms around his neck as she was carried back into the gently streaming water of the Lixela.