Chapter VI: A Helping Hand
The cold night air whipped at Geralt as soon as he left the house, though one couldn't say its decrepit state protected much against it either. He felt the peppering of snow on his face and hair. Skellige was harsh but it had a kind of cruel beauty to it as well. After the debacle that Cerys just put him through, all the witcher desired in this moment was a well-fed fire and comfortable chair. Perhaps a mug of beer and a friend to share stories with. Crach's daughter approached him from behind. "Thank you for your help, Geralt," she said in her thick islander accent. "I appreciate you going along with my idea even if you didn't fully know what to expect. That took some brains and courage."
Geralt's eyes were pulled toward the orange lights surrounding Svorlag and the night's rest it enticed. "Throwing babies in fires wasn't something we were trained for at Kaer Morhen. Though I suppose the witcher's code doesn't outright forbid it."
"Ah, but it didn't end like that, did it now?" she proudly stated. "We helped Udalyrk with his curse and defeated the demon. The way it cowered before us, slinking its way back to whatever foul place it came from. That is sure to be a song sung by skalds from every tavern on the isles."
"Think it'll boost your chances at getting crowned?"
"I won't deny my ambition, Geralt. While my brother goes around brawling with ice giants and clashing heads with drowners, I plan to actually do this land some good. Try to make the clans see our common goal and enemy."
"That's admirable, even if a little unlikely." He paused as he felt a twinge of regret for throwing down her goal so quick. Geralt turned to her as they stood together on the steps in front of Udalryk's home. "But if someone were to do it, I think it'd be you."
She smiled at him. "I hope you're right." Cerys looked down from his head to his chest and then at the village below. "Would ya want to stay the night on Spikeroog? It's awfully cold to try and sail back home and the darkness will surely send us crashing into a rock. I'm sure Udalyrk would be happy to let us have a guestroom."
"A guestroom?" Geralt repeated. "Singular?"
The an Craite girl blushed and appeared embarrassed. "You can sleep on the feasting table if you prefer. I just thought you might like a bed."
The witcher was unsure about Cerys's offer. He had been with many women in his long life and felt he could sense the girl's poorly hidden feelings. Somehow he doubted she'd choose to sleep on the floor. He hesitated in the act of potentially being unfaithful to Triss. He loved her and didn't ever want to make her feel like she was just another woman for pleasure on his journey. Not after everything he did to prove himself to her. Yet the temptation of being in bed with someone, even if nothing particularly romantic occurred, did warm his heart which had been lonely the last few weeks. Looking to Cerys's brown eyes and hair blessed by fire, he nodded his head. "I think I might take you up on that."
The hall of Udalryk's house on the bottom of the hills was lively and full of cheerful warriors of Clan Brokvar. Though he had some slight hesitations about their rituals and traditions, the witcher quite admired these peoples sense of celebration and reveling. A recent successful raid and the end of the curse plaguing their lord had made some of his best shield maidens and guards quite happy. The mead at the table was aplenty with mugs being clashed together time and time again. Food was passed around and everyone had their fill. The air smelled of the many great dishes served. Roasted lamb basted in an herb butter, pork that dripped with its own juices, cooked onions slathered in gravy, along with plenty of other gluttonous delights. Geralt chatted with a few of the men and shared tales about previous fights and battles. Many were impressed by his twin blades, which he recently had forged. Cerys was curious too, yet seemingly of a different kind of sword. Her many looks of attraction and little touches around his body for seemingly no reason had caught his attention once again. Just as she intended it to. And in the right light, when the roaring fire from the hearth lit up behind her head, she reminded him of the sorceress he longed and lusted for.
The guestroom was not terribly small, much better than that lousy one he was forced to stay in at Kaer Trolde. Animal furs, painted shields, and a variety of weapons hung on the walls. Next to the entrance lay a bed with much more comfortable looking covers and mattress than those which he had been accustomed to lately. Cerys followed shortly behind him and closed the guestroom door. "What a night!" she said with some excitement. "I quite like Brokvar warriors, despite what my father thinks of them." She moved past the witcher and toward the other end of the room where there was a small table. Taking her blade from its sheath, she laid it down. As she began to undo the dark red padded armor around her chest, she glanced back at him. "You plan to sleep with your swords on your back?"
Surprised and rather nervous, Geralt gave an awkward smile and undid the scabbards from his armor. Laying them against the nightstand, he slowly pulled off his gloves as he watched Cerys become progressively less clothed. After a minute she was left with just a red tunic and dark brown pants. Her female form became more noticeable than it was with all the armor and fur she often wore. Geralt hesitated as he took off his boots. "Are you sure you don't want the room to yourself?" he asked. "I could go see if the nearby inn has space for me to sleep."
"That would not at all be what I want, witcher," she said with her hands on her hips. She could sense his unease and grinned at him. "Is this about Yennefer?"
"Huh?"
"Let me guess," Cerys spoke as she walked towards him. "She has you following her around by the leash again and you don't want to upset her. I could tell by the way she looked at you at Kaer Trolde she wasn't over you."
"Yen… me and her are done, Cerys," he said softly. It was an odd thing to say, yet something he was partially proud of himself for being able to speak. She stared at him like he had the brain of a rock troll.
"Then what's the problem? If you finally got free of her iron grip, then why not relax?" She stood in front of him, the outline of her breasts under the thin red tunic pulling at the witcher's instincts.
"Because there's someone else."
She peered down for a second. "Who?"
"Triss Merigold."
"Another sorceress," she stated. "I've heard of her. They say she's quite lovely." Cerys shuffled slightly on her feet. "Would she have a problem with you not spending the night alone? I know Yennefer was quite controlling about such matters, or at least I'd assume."
Geralt wondered that himself a few times. It was Triss's idea to hire a prostitute one night in Novigrad to spice up the bedroom before he departed. She didn't seem to mind him in bed with another woman then. Although, that was a decision together. And him and Amrynn never actually engaged in intercourse, only other acts of pleasure. She never once mentioned to him the idea of a more open relationship. They'd both hoped they would never have need to consider it. Yet here Geralt stood. "I don't know," was what he said after a few seconds of silence. Cerys's brown eyes looked up at him and seemed to peer into his worried mind. She raised a hand and caressed a strand of white hair from his face. He felt implied to say something more. "She never specifically told me against it, but never said it was fine either. One time we—
His mouth was caught agape and he found himself gasping as the an Craite girl put her hand on his groin. She squeezed gently and considered his half-mast of an erection a sign of his titter tottering desires. "You were saying?"
The witcher sensed the two sides of him conflict in that moment. The side that never wanted to hurt Triss, even without her knowing. And the other, that desperately wanted to feel the touch of a woman and find comfort at night. His penis hardened desperately quick with only Cerys's minor movements. His trousers became unbearable. "One night she let a woman please me briefly. She watched and seemed to find it," he moaned faintly, "amusing."
"Perhaps she wouldn't mind this then," Cerys spoke into his ear as she reached down into his pants and touched his erection with her bare hand. It was hot to her cool hand and made her gasp as she felt the fury inside it. Her sex grew aroused at this, fueling her feelings even more. "Come sit down with me," she whispered.
"I can't be unfaithful, Cerys," he groaned, his body urging him toward his carnal desires.
"Is touching so wrong?" she asked as she kissed his neck, her soft hand massaging his length within the confines of his trousers. Her digits wrapped themselves around the tip and played with its sensitive reactions. She tried to win him over with these devilish teases of a more indulgent course. When he didn't answer for a moment, Cerys appeared to come up with a solution. "You say you love her?"
"I don't know if I've said it but… I do, yes."
"Then you can tell me about her. Tell me what you like about this sorceress from your continent. I'll merely help you coax out the memories." This idea was all too tempting for the witcher. His mind and clear thinking were getting veiled by his selfish wants. Cerys obviously wished to spent at least some time with him romantically. He longed for Triss and the touch of a woman. And perhaps she wouldn't mind a bit of innocent play? Or maybe this was just a desperate and hesitant man trying to convince himself.
Her hand kept stroking him. If he didn't say anything soon she may bring him to the end sooner than he'd like. "Let's try that," he said lightly after nearly a minute of silence. As quickly as the words left his lips, Geralt felt Cerys give him a light shove and he fell down onto the bedside. At first he was concerned she was just testing him, as he heard some women did when unsure of a man's fidelity. However, he was given a sigh of relief when he looked up to see her over his body with a naughty grin on her face.
"Tell me about Triss Merigold, Geralt," she said as she knelt down. Her hands reached up for his waistline and grabbed hold of his trousers. Slowly, she pulled them down. "I want to hear what's so special about this one."
Geralt sat upright and moved himself slightly to help her out. His pants came down to his knees easily. The Skellige girl ran her hands up his muscular legs to the white undergarment covering the exceptionally obvious excitement the witcher was experiencing. "She's… very special to me," he spoke, pondering about where to begin. "I was lost after I was thrown aside by Yen. After such a long time searching for her, she didn't even seem to care. Just wanted to rise the ranks in the Nilfgaardian political world." Cerys gave a face that displayed how she felt about Yen's allegiance. "In part of northern Temeria, another sorceress by the name of Keira proved to just be using me. I admire her beauty and her occasional wits, but it hurt nonetheless. Then I went to Novigrad, still searching for Ciri." He breathed a loud sigh of relief as his painfully erect penis sprung free of its constraints. A Skellige born lady, Cerys had no shame in showing her attraction to his impressive endowment. She bit her lip and eyed his long and thick shaft that stood over eight inches. Capped off at the tip was a very swollen and needy looking pink head. Her body shivered slightly at the thought of what good a man like Geralt could do for her in bed. The places he could reach that her lonely fingers never stood a chance to. Yet, following what she originally said, she stuck with her touches.
"Go on," she spoke as she put out her tongue and coated her palms with saliva. He watched for a second, stunned at the lustful face she made as she gazed into his eyes. He briefly considered the pleasures that were possible in such a mouth.
"When I first saw her, I felt something strange in my stomach. Like how a boy feels when he sees his young lover where he didn't expect to. Yet at that time I thought we were done." He paused and savored the satisfaction of Cerys wrapping her lubricated hands around his penis. It throbbed from just her simple advances. Gliding her palms up and down the length, she elicited sounds that Geralt always tried to suppress. "We were hesitant to talk things over," he moaned. "I don't blame her. But eventually we found ourselves working for another old friend of mine in Novigrad. Ran part of the criminal underworld there."
"Never knew witchers get themselves into such things. Can't say we have much of one here. We take what we please." Her right hand started massaging the tip of Geralt's shaft. It was almost too sensitive to bear but even so he didn't want her to stop. Triss would understand, he kept reminding himself. She'd want him to be satisfied, wouldn't she? He found it hard to speak as his teeth were clenched tight from the sensations Cerys's palms were giving as they made circles around him. Though tempted to keep him in this sexual torture, she knew it was probably too much. When she resumed her two-handed stroking, he found his tongue once again.
"We needed to work with him to find Ciri. And get the other mages out of Novigrad. It was when she offered herself as bait for some guards that I realized how devoted she was to not only Ciri, but to me as well." He reared his head back in ecstasy as the Skellige girl's hands began gliding effortlessly over his cock, his arousal creating a fine layer of lube by itself. "But I couldn't let her go through with it. Something inside me just couldn't. It pissed off my friend but that meant nothing to me compared to her health. Later she asked for my help getting a noblewoman's son away from some witch hunters. We had to go to a ball."
"Was it as fun as our feasts?" Cerys asked. She stood up from her knees down position between his legs and sat on the bed next to him, keeping one hand on his member the whole time. Her face wasn't too far from his own. In his guilty conscious, the witcher tried to make himself see Triss when he opened his eyes. The beautiful Maribor sorceress passionately stroking him. Not a clan leaders daughter looking for a one-night thrill.
"A lot of food. A lot of drunks. Not as much bloodshed. Save for one instance. But… me and her became closer that night. Drank wine together in the hedge maze. Played Gwent with some careless nobles. Tried a bunch of decadent desserts." He felt like he was there. The bright lights, the smell of the food, the sound of those drunken wealthy people singing and dancing. "And we kissed. By the fountain after she nearly had a fall." Cerys used one hand to stroke his penis, her thumb rubbing his tip as she neared it, while her other began gently touching his balls. She craved what they were carrying for her. If Geralt were not sterile, she suspected his seed would be strong and powerful. The kind a woman would want to fill up her belly with. "She fell into my arms like a newlywed bride."
"A romance for the skalds," Cerys whispered.
"It was more. Fireworks went off at the same time. I felt like they were for us. For our feelings coming out once more. Our true feelings that we tried to hide. It was so obvious to me in that moment." Geralt's body eased with each movement and sensation, pleasure senses tingling from the different parts she stimulated. Triss had made him feel much better for sure. Yet at a time when he was as desperate as now, this was amazing. "Later I helped her get her fellow mages to safety. She was so brave, so selfless in that moment. She could have left but instead waited to make sure she could get them all to Kovir. She was going to leave too. Her and the king had already made an agreement."
"But…?"
"I couldn't let her go."
Cerys smiled slightly. Her hardened nipples underneath the red tunic betrayed her own attraction towards this sexual therapy session. "Did you confess your love?"
"Yes, though I probably sounded the fool. At first it seemed she left for good, going by her better judgment." He paused. "I wouldn't have blamed her." Cerys sped up her hands, both now moving as one up and down his throbbing, hot erection. "But she came back," he sighed as he sensed himself nearing closer and closer towards an end. "By the gods it felt good when she came back. We went to a nearby lighthouse. Isolated and quiet." Cerys could sense him getting nearer as well, her attention drawn to his pre cum leaking tip and the subtly increasing twitches it was giving. "We made love there. It was… like the fireworks at the ball. We kissed on the upper floor of it for minutes before finally removing our clothes." Geralt leaned himself back and remembered everything. He remembered how gracefully Triss's green dress slipped off her body, revealing all her lovely curves and form. Her green eyes were spliced with the roaring fire next to him. Her breasts swayed somewhat as she moved against his scarred body. Wrapping his arms around her, the witcher felt that his heart was at peace. Like he never should've left this embrace.
"Geralt?" Cerys prodded, unsure of why he ceased speaking.
Her mouth gently opened in a quiet moan as he brushed himself against her sex. He set her on the side of the stone barrier and held her close as they became one in that moment. Geralt never wanted that moment to end. Their many loving nights spent together were beyond fantastic, however they could never match to the lighthouse. It was as if nothing else in the world existed beyond there. He melted into her and she entangled herself around him. The climax could never be described, but Geralt knew he and her could both still feel its lingering effect to this day.
"You're about there," a voice said. The memory faded like the lingering drowsiness of being drugged. However, when the witcher opened his eyes, he knew enough to know that this was a mistake. Putting out his arm, he stopped the Skellige girl's hands in motion. Gods it felt terrible. The rising sensation of something so sinfully desirable fading away. His furious and disappointed tip twitched in displeasure. He sighed.
"Sorry," Geralt said quietly. "But… I can't."
Cerys looked confused, offended, and even partially hurt. "What's the matter? Did I do something wrong? You stopped talking for a minute there." The witcher gripped her hands, still wet with spit and arousal, and moved them off of his body.
"No, I did," he muttered. His mind slowly pulled away from the slow and gentle sea of red hair. "It's my fault. I mean that. I should have never agreed to this." He stood up and out of bed, his orgasm yearning sex slowly softening without any stimulation. And especially now that the magic was lost. He started to pull back up his trousers and underwear.
"That's what every man who feels bad about betraying his love says." Cerys wiped her hands off on the covers and stood up next to him. Her freckled face craned up at his tall form. "You went along this far."
"Yeah? Well I want to go no further," he spat, not hiding his anger. He tied around his belt. "If you think all I care about is feeling euphoric for thirty seconds, then you're mistaken. Besides, what the hell kind of a friend am I of your father like this? You're Cerys an Craite."
She put her hands on her hips like so many other bitter women. "Oh, is that what this is about? You worried my father is going to skin you if he ever found out? Hang you up on the feasting hall wall? I thought it was because this Triss Merigold would never forgive you for getting your prick touched once every full moon?"
"It's neither," Geralt spoke, buttoning up his white tunic. "I could never forgive myself. Even if it turns out she wouldn't have given a damn. Cause I would have known that I did it without her consent or discussing it. And I never want to make her feel that way." The idea of hurting Triss twisted Geralt's stomach something foul.
"It seems to me you just found another woman with a leash. So quickly after you broke away from the former. And here I thought you were the type of man to do what you please. Fight monsters, collect your coin, and spend it on pretty girls or spend your time with pretty girls who simply wanted to show you some love."
"I like you Cerys," he said as he donned his armor and swords. "You're a beautiful girl and should have the pick of the litter with any man in these isles. And I have no doubts that you will become queen of these lands soon. I would be happy to serve your father and ensure that happens if I can help. But as for this…" he spoke as he looked to the ground. "I think it's best if we both forget it. Because I don't want to be what you just described. That's not who I am."
Geralt left the an Craite girl a moment later, bidding farewell to some of the straggling warriors still at the table. If they hadn't heard the short argument, perhaps they'd soon assume that something went on in that room. The witcher, however, cared little what a band of isolated islanders believed about him. He quickly proceeded to depart from both Svorlag and Spikeroog on boat. Cerys might have warned him about the dangers of sailing in the dark, yet the witcher's eyes were better than a normal humans and the outline of the Kaer Trolde mountains were quite obvious to him. He wouldn't want to stay for long though. For his soul yearned for being reunited with his distant partner and then his daughter. His resolve to be with both women again was renewed. It would be off to Velen, to find that little mischievous Uma. Then perhaps to the emperor, to report on his findings. And finally… after what few weeks felt like months, he'd return to Kaer Morhen. Home of his brothers, Eskel and Lambert. Home of his master and staunch companion, Vesemir. And where his heart lay in wait, with the sorceress he longed and lusted for.
