Conjunction

Chapter 29 - Taming the Beast

Solona trudged back through the woods in the greying dusk with Lusa snuffling through the snowy underbrush nearby. Geralt was absent when she reached their small campsite, which didn't surprise her. She supposed if there was a bitter winter rainstorm he'd be standing out in it after his outburst. Or throwing himself in front of a canon.

Their situation wasn't exactly easy to deal with, but sometimes his reactions baffled her. She supposed she could understand somewhat. Wanting him had seeped into her, bone-deep, and had settled as a dull ache throughout her being. But she found that she relished the constant desire that rested like a burning ember deep inside her. It excited her that she just needed a bit of tinder to set it alight. But mostly she drew comfort from the thought that something so vital had replaced the horrific feelings of dread and fear the latent memories of her experiences at the Circle had left her with for so long. She was content with the change in spite of the occasional frustrations.

Knowing they both wanted each other with equal passion, especially knowing that there would be an end to their enforced abstinence before too long, was as much an incentive for her to complete their task as their ultimate goal was. She could manage the intermittent contact until then, but she sensed it tortured him more than it did her. It was like he was always stretched too tightly when he was around her and any little thing she might do would cause him to snap when it came to his desire.

She cursed herself for pushing him earlier, but she believed he needed a bit of the same release he'd given her. She knew it wouldn't quench the need entirely, but it would help... at least it had helped her. She didn't understand why he was so resistant.

She stoked the fire and set about dressing out Lusa's kill and setting up the spit to roast the birds. When their dinner was cooking she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the forest. After a moment she could hear from somewhere towards the west the sounds of rhythmic breathing accompanied by the high-pitched whistle of a sword cutting through air.

She followed the sounds through the trees and found him in a small clearing working methodically through familiar practiced movements. She admired his deadly grace and idly wondered how long it had taken him to attain that level of skill. She knew he did this every day without fail, either at dawn or at dusk. Occasionally she would join him but got the sense he preferred to be alone.

She noticed that he'd stripped off his outer leather shirt and vest and was wearing only his thin linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The supple leather of his trousers flexed with him as he moved, the strength of his thighs clear as though the leather were a second skin. His hair was still loose and whipped around with each of his quick turns as he swung his blade in wide arcs through the air. She watched him with frank admiration and wondered to herself why the sight of him like that was almost more arousing than seeing him stark naked had been earlier. She concluded that it must be the addition of the sword that evoked that response in her.

He paused for a moment and acknowledged her with a small nod.

She said softly, almost reverently, "You're beautiful when you're practicing."

He seemed shocked by her statement and faltered slightly. She was almost certain she'd caused him to blush, but couldn't be sure it wasn't just the flush from exercising in the cold air. She thought she saw a hint of a smile tug at his mouth.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked.

"Still cooling off," he said, giving her a brief yet meaningful glance as he took up a new stance. He inhaled deeply through his nose and blew out slowly through his mouth, the breath condensing into a visible puff of warm moisture in the cold air. He began moving again, swinging and thrusting his sword into the air with graceful, deliberate movements.

Ah, so that's what this was about. She tilted her head and smiled. "You know, there are other options."

He shook his head very slightly as he continued through his movements.

"You know I could make you let me... take care of you," she said suggestively.

"I know. And I know you won't," he replied, his expression growing serious.

He came to a halt just before her, concluding the final movement in the sequence.

He let his sword arm hang loosely at his side and gazed at her with a glint in his eye. "Alright, Solona. Since you're so insistent, allow me to propose a compromise. Duel me. If you win, I'll let you have your way with me."

This could be interesting. "What weapons?" she asked.

"Weapons I choose when we begin."

"And if you win?"

"If I win you cook dinner for the next week."

She raised her eyebrows and smiled at him in surprise. "You do realize that you're valuing food over sex, right?"

"You're a very good cook. And I need to eat more than I need to fuck... or whatever it is you were intending."

"I can't decide whether I should be insulted by that statement or not," she said indignantly.

"I just complimented your cooking."

"Yes, but..." She paused when she saw the humour dancing in his eyes. She glared at him. "I'm going to be angry if you let me win."

"You're catching on. And there's no way I'm going to let you win."

"Why do I get the feeling you're trying to teach me a lesson?"

"I am. You need to learn better self restraint."

She raised an eyebrow. "You didn't exactly practice much of it yourself when you had your hands on me a little while ago. I think you left bite marks again, you know." She pointed to the shoulder she'd felt him sink his teeth into while he'd been working his magic on her more tender flesh.

She thought she saw a flash of irritation in his eyes. "You think not? Then you really have no concept of what 'self restraint' means."

"Are you saying you didn't want to touch me?" She knew she was goading him but for some reason couldn't restrain herself. She found the realization ironic, especially because he seemed intent on teaching her self restraint when it was clear to her that his own was a mere thread that was near to snapping. She decided she would see how far he wanted to take this.

He stepped close to her, the tip of his sword cutting a line in the snow behind him. He leaned close to speak against her ear, his voice low and guttural. "I wanted that, and more, and you know it."

She felt heat settle deep in her belly and rise up her torso at his words. She could hear him inhale deeply through his nose and felt the warm current of air against her cheek when he exhaled. She was briefly hypnotized by his proximity and the musky smell of his sweat mixed with the slightly spicy smell left on him from their bath. He was so warm she could almost see the heat radiating off him in the chilly winter air. She was already in a daze when he gripped her arms gently and turned her around, then held her tight against him and continued to speak, his lips soft against her ear.

"I want all of you, Solona," his deep, rough voice tickled her ear. "And if it takes a fight to make you realize that, then so be it. We'll see who wins this one."

She almost whimpered when she felt his hands on her. She arched her back when he squeezed one breast through her soft woollen tunic and moved his hand lower. She realized with subtle panic that this was what he'd had in mind when he'd suggested a duel. This could not end well.

He continued to murmur into her ear. "I can't handle just having you piecemeal – my fingers up inside your sweet quim one moment, your hot mouth wrapped around me the next. It's like offering a starving man a single grain and expecting that to sustain him while you hold a loaf of bread just out of his reach – or in your case an entire banquet. I can smell the hunger in you, too. How much more of this can you withstand before giving in? If I decided I had to have you now, would you be strong enough to stop me?"

"You wouldn't..." she gasped, even though she really wanted him to try in spite of her better judgment. But she did want to see just how far he would go with this little contest. His hands were suddenly hot on her skin beneath her tunic. His lips and tongue seared her cool skin where he kissed her neck. He gripped the flesh of her hips tightly and pulled her back against him. She could feel his erection straining at the front of his trousers and quivered at the sensation.

"Wouldn't I?" he groaned against her shoulder and she felt him grind his hips into her backside. "Are you strong enough to stop me, Solona?"

She was breathing heavily already. "You know I can."

His breath was hot against her ear. "I know, but will you? You know I'm not a threat to you."

She reached behind her and gripped him through his trousers, eliciting a loud gasp as she gave his hard length a slow stroke. In a swift motion she hooked his leg with her own and twisted around. A second later he was flat on the snowy ground and she was straddling his hips.

"There are easier ways to stop you when you're distracted. Or have you forgotten?"

She grinned wickedly and leaned over to kiss him. Just as their lips made contact he flipped them, planting her solidly beneath him. She had expected it and surged up against his hips, wrapping her legs around him. She smiled inwardly at the groan of desperate need she heard from him.

"You don't play fair," he said, glaring down at her.

"This was your idea, and I should remind you that you chose the weapons. We'll see who wins." She grinned and pulled him into a deep kiss. He didn't even try to resist.

She felt the cold snow beginning to melt beneath her and seep through her clothing at the same time his hot hand found its way underneath her tunic again and gripped her breast. She gasped as he squeezed her nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, shit. You're going to take this as far as you can, aren't you?" she murmured against his lips.

"Mmhmm."

He began nuzzling at her throat again as his leather-clad hips ground against hers. Was he really trying to challenge her? Trying teach her some silly lesson? Or was he just getting his rocks off? Oh hell that felt good, whatever he was doing. She realized his mouth was at her breast when the cold winter air hit her skin. She just hoped she'd know the moment she needed to make him stop and before she got carried away herself by how good his body felt pressed against her.

She heard a low rumble in his chest as he began unfastening her belt and unlacing her trousers. Oh, he was playing with fire. She tried to decide whether she should use a spell or just punch him when he crossed the line he was so perilously close to now. He had to know by now... he was intuitive. He had to have figured out she still had control, even though she was letting him have free rein over her body. Which she was thoroughly enjoying.

She felt him yank her trousers past her hips and the cold, icy snow bit into her behind. She felt his hot breath against her sex.

Oh yes.

Oh wait...

Oh no, not there... if he went there she'd lose it, she knew. She couldn't let him win.

Oh, but maybe just a little bit?

She began to groan softly in frustration at the warring impulses in her head. At least these impulses she could control. A low rumble shortly erupted from her, growing into a loud expletive.

"Fuck!" she yelled in frustration at the sky. She sat up and grabbed his head between her hands, forcing his face up to look at her. She gazed into his lust-glazed eyes and said, simply and emphatically: "No."

He didn't seem to comprehend what she was saying to him at first. She shook his head gently between her palms and he blinked at her. After another second his yellow slitted eyes finally lost their dazed expression and his brow furrowed. He glanced down at her exposed flesh and she couldn't help but be amused by the mournful look on his face as he sat back and covered his face with his hands.

"You win," he said in resignation.

She let out a hearty laugh as she stood and pulled up her pants and began lacing and buckling them.

In a voice rich with suppressed mirth she said, "I'm not sure if I did, honestly. You were an inch from giving me a prize and I made you stop."

"I was wrong," he said.

"Wrong about what?" she asked. She was startled when she looked at him and found him still kneeling in the snow looking at her helplessly.

"Wrong about your self restraint... You're... You... I wouldn't have stopped until it was too late." He sighed and shook his head.

"You have to tame the beast, Geralt. Whatever it is for you. I tamed mine, thanks to you, so now I can control it when it rears its ugly head... even bring it out to play sometimes. I don't get the sense you've managed to tame your own. You let it out and it wants to devour anything in its path. It doesn't matter how tight a hold you think you have on it – it isn't about control. It's about understanding and acceptance."

"My beast?" he asked incredulously and she laughed when he glanced for the briefest second at the bulge still obvious at the front of his trousers. He chuckled softly and shook his head, then looked up at her. He eyed her up and down and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm pretty sure it's only you it wants to devour."

She smirked at him then turned to leave. "You think about it once the blood returns to your brain. I'm going to go make sure Lusa isn't burning our supper. Oh, and if you'd really wanted to win, you would have stuck to swords."

"I didn't let you win," he called after her.

"If you say so," she called back with a shake of her head as she walked away. She could hear him grumble under his breath "but I didn't."

He stalked back into camp several moments later looking irritable. He grabbed his whetstone and settled on a saddle blanket against a fallen log near the fire and began sharpening his swords. If she didn't know better she'd be convinced he was sulking.

When the food was ready she wordlessly handed him his portion. His mood seemed to lift somewhat as he ate. When he was finished sucking the last of the roasted meat off the bones he gave her a wry look and said, "Better than sex."

"You must have amnesia again," she said with a mocking smile.

"Selective amnesia. If I tried to remember sex with you I'd drag you into that tent and never leave. We'd be lucky if the world ended before we starved to death. Needless to say, we don't have time for that – we need to be in Vengerberg in two weeks' time if we're going to keep on schedule."

He paused and gave her a steady look for a moment before saying, "You'd better get on with it while my senses are dulled from your cooking."

"Get on with what?"

"You won, remember?" He still seemed put out by the idea that he'd been beaten at his own game.

She gave him a smug look and crossed her arms. "Oh, right. I did, didn't I? But only because you chose the wrong weapon. I'm still not convinced you didn't do that on purpose. Maybe subconsciously you really wanted to lose."

"Maybe so," he said. "But the fact remains, you won. Don't tell me you're reneging on the bet."

She stood and sauntered over to him where he sat, the orange glow of their campfire reflected in his dark pupils. She stepped across his legs and stood over him with one foot planted on either side of his thighs.

Looking down at him with a smile, she said, "I wouldn't dream of it."

She knelt down, resting her backside on the tops of his thighs. Their eyes met and she gave him a serious look. "I'll give you one chance to back out."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he echoed, his eyes flashing with desire as he slid his hands up her thighs. She grabbed them tightly in her own and gave him an admonishing look.

"These go behind you. And they stay there."

"What, now?" he asked, blinking at her in confusion.

"Find a spot for them on the tree. I can't let you distract me while I work."

He looked at her with wry amusement. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at him, one eyebrow cocked as though she were waiting for an unruly child to behave.

He shrugged and stretched his arms out, gripping two broken branches on either side of him that jutted out from the bark of the fallen tree he was resting against.

He looked at her expectantly and she thought she could detect a hint of apprehension in his eyes. Her expression softened and she reached a hand up to caress the side of his jaw, her fingertips rasping against his rough stubble.

"It's not going to hurt," she said softly. "Close your eyes." He obeyed and she noted that he swallowed hard when he did it.

She sat looking at him for a second, noting the creases of worry in the center of his forehead and the almost grim set to his mouth. He didn't smile nearly enough, she thought, and had an urge to to kiss away those lines. She drifted her hand up his cheek and slid her fingertips in a soft caress across his forehead, then leaned in and rested her lips gently against his warm skin for a second. When she drew back the lines disappeared and his brow relaxed, as did the lines around his mouth. She smiled to herself and kissed him again between his eyebrows.

In a low voice he asked, "Were you serious when you said I was beautiful?"

His question startled her. She reached a hand up and traced the scar that extended over his left eye, then leaned in and kissed his cheek at the very end of it.

"Yes. No more talking."

His mouth opened as if he were about to say something else, but she silenced him with her lips. Instead of speaking he only moaned softly as she darted her tongue out to taste him. He always tasted of herbs, even if he hadn't recently swallowed any potions. She'd grown used to it during their trip north, but since they'd been compelled to keep their distance she sometimes forgot how much she liked it. She hummed softly in pleasure and deepened the kiss, raising both hands up to rest on either side of his jaw.

She felt him shift his position, his hips flexing between them, and remembered that she had a task to perform. Without breaking from the kiss she slid both hands down his chest, enjoying the feel of his hard, lean muscles through the thin, loose fabric of his shirt. She felt his stomach tighten beneath her touch and he moaned against her lips when her hands reached the waist of his trousers.

"This might feel strange," she said, pulling back from the kiss. "Just bear with me."

He opened his eyes, giving her a wary look until she released his erection from the confines of his leather pants. The cold air hit his much warmer flesh causing him to inhale sharply.

"That doesn't feel strange. That just feels fucking cold," he said, gasping for breath.

She laughed. "That's not what I was referring to. This is."

She gripped his thick shaft with one hand that was glowing white with energy. He let out another sharp gasp and arched his back. She pulled back in alarm.

"Too much?" she asked.

"Fuck no. Do that again," he said when he'd relaxed.

Magic crackled along her fingertips as she reached for him again.

"Wait... " he said. She paused and looked at him, her eyebrows raised. "What are you about to do to me? It won't have any lasting effects, will it?"

She smiled. "Nothing physical."

"You've done this before?"

"Yes."

He nodded at her and she slipped her hand back down, embracing his hot, hard flesh. She slid her other hand lower, gently cupping him between his thighs, white tendrils of energy jumping out from her fingertips.

She began stroking him slowly and watched as his eyelids fluttered and his breathing quickened.

She realized as she watched him that she didn't think she'd ever really looked at him when he was overwhelmed by lust and passion. His face was transformed into something otherworldly and beautiful – even more so than what she'd seen when she watched him exercising earlier. She recalled his bloodline and understood that might have something to do with what she was witnessing now, but she found a new understanding of how this man could be so alluring to other women.

"You're glowing, Geralt," she said softly.

"You're electrocuting my balls," he said gruffly. "But it feels damned incredible."

She rolled her eyes, realizing there was no use talking to him now. She altered her spell and he relaxed under the soothing green glow of her hands. She continued caressing him as before and he tilted his head back, letting out a low, guttural groan.

"Too much?" she asked again.

He tilted his head back up to look at her with glazed eyes. He shook his head, then closed his eyes in pleasure. "No... that's perfect... it's like... relief, almost."

"Fuck, I want to touch you, Sol," he said and her heart thudded in her chest at the raw need she heard in his voice.

"Not allowed. But if it will help, look at me," she said.

He opened his eyes and met hers.

"Let me inside for a second – really inside," she said.

He nodded.

She held his gaze as she continued to stroke him with magically charged fingertips. She sensed his mental barrier fall. When it did, she sent a series of images into his mind of their first night together; of all their soft caresses and the wild abandon with which they'd made love.

He gasped and closed his eyes. She could see his hands clench tightly on the makeshift handles of the fallen tree.

His voice sounded distant, detached. "You were so soft. I can almost feel you now. Every smooth, wet inch of your skin after I carried you out of that bath. I couldn't get enough of you. I couldn't stop burying myself inside you. How could any woman feel as good to me as you felt? Oh hell, that feels amazing." He opened his eyes again and stared at her.

She'd switched her spell again so that gentle electrical pulses sparked between her fingertips and his skin. This time she avoided making direct contact with him, instead holding her fingertips just close enough for the spell itself to reach him. She felt him tense beneath her and increased the power of the spell. He groaned in response.

She watched in triumphant fascination as his thick length throbbed before her eyes and wept a small measure of evidence of his ecstasy. The small droplet stayed poised at his tip, glistening in the firelight. She slid her index finger up his length and caught the droplet. She had it almost to her lips when she caught his eyes burning into her. She paused and hesitated.

"Do it," he whispered. "I want to see you taste me."

She blinked and smiled demurely. Instead of tasting her fingertip, she slicked the moisture slowly over her lips, then leaned in and kissed him again. He opened up to her eagerly and their tongues slid together, the salty taste of his arousal mingling with the sweeter flavor of his mouth. Oh, how she missed this. But she reluctantly pulled back again, knowing she needed to avoid testing her own limits if at all possible.

"Sol," he groaned desperately when their lips parted.

"I can do more than taste you," she said as she scooted down his legs. She shifted to kneel between his knees, then lowered her head and captured him in her mouth.

She heard the sound of wood splintering and glanced up to see his outstretched hands clinging by the fingernails to the bark of the fallen tree. His previous handholds lay on the ground, crushed to kindling. His head was thrown back and he was breathing heavily. There was a sheen of sweat over the exposed skin of his chest that showed through the unlaced neck of his shirt. She knew it wasn't the heat of their campfire that was causing it and hummed softly in amusement around his flesh.

She continued her delicate magical ministrations on his nether regions while she slowly worked him with her mouth. He was wound so tight it was only a matter of moments before she had him bellowing into the sky as his hard flesh pulsed with his release. She swallowed deeply and kept going, increasing her tempo slightly as she increased the flow of magic through her fingers into his sex.

"Solona," he groaned in between heavy breaths. "Oh, fuck."

He arched his back and his hips involuntarily thrust towards her. She was unrelenting, bringing him to orgasm again and again with deft use of her mouth and tongue and the alternating charge of spells against his flesh. She didn't stop.

He let out an odd, throaty growl and she glanced up at him, pulling back from her task briefly. She kept her lips wrapped delicately around his thick tip and continued sucking gently and swirling her tongue around the velvety skin. His cheeks were flushed and he panted through parted lips. He was staring at her intently, the look in his eyes something she didn't recognize, but she thought was equal parts amazement and gratitude. She descended on him again and he sighed deeply in pleasure, arching his hips up to meet her once more.

Solona had lost count of the number of times she'd brought him to his peak when she felt him shift and his hands gripped her shoulders, urging her to sit up.

"I'm spent," he said, smiling at her sheepishly.

She grinned and said, "I wasn't sure if that was even possible. I guess now we know how to tame your beast."

He shook his head as he fastened up his pants. "Oh, I doubt it's tamed... just exhausted. That was..." He shook his head again and shrugged, unable to find the words.

"Better than my cooking?" she asked teasingly.

He reached to her and pulled her onto his lap. Holding her close, he whispered in her ear, "Solona, there's only one thing I've tasted that would overshadow the experience, and that particular treat is off-limits."

She gasped when she felt his hand press against her sex through her trousers.

"Geralt..." she began to object but the slight pressure he was exerting between her thighs was making it hard to think.

"You have an iron will," he whispered in her ear as his hand deftly unlaced the front of her trousers and slid inside. "The entire time you were busy with me, I could tell how much you wanted more. The smell of your need was almost as arousing as what you were doing to me with your tongue."

She moaned when she felt his fingertips slide between the folds of her sex and slip inside her. His thumb found her swollen bud and applied the merest pressure, then began working her in slow circles while he thrust his fingers into her.

Her eyelids fluttered closed and she sighed in pleasure. She felt his mouth cover hers, his kiss hot and urgent. She clutched tightly to him, her head spinning from the ecstasy his expert fingers inflicted on her. The intensity increased until she was unable to contain herself. She inadvertently bit down on his lip and tasted blood before she pulled back. She cried out as her hips writhed against his hand and her muscles spasmed around his fingers. He nuzzled at her neck until the spasms dwindled. When he pulled his hand away she sighed, then rested her head against his shoulder.

He looked at her with a smug smile that would have made her laugh if she'd had more energy. Instead she only let out a soft chuckle. He stood with her in his arms and carried her to their tent, stooping down to set her on her bedroll inside. He quickly banked the fire and retrieved his sword before crawling in with her. He lay down beside her and covered them both with their blankets, pulling her close against him.

"Sleep tonight?" she asked softly in the darkness.

"Mmhmm," he murmured against the back of her neck.

"Bad idea," she said softly just before drifting off in the comfort of his arms.

She felt cold.

She hurt.

She couldn't move.

She opened her eyes but saw only distorted shadows cast by dim, cold light flickering around her.

Muffled voices whispered from just beyond the gloom, reaching her ears from all directions. The whispers slithered around her and choked out what little illumination remained until there was nothing but suffocating darkness.

Inside her mind she heard him calling her name, his voice worried, desperate.

She closed her eyes and tried to reach for him, but her mind was in a fog, unable to focus. Images flickered between past and present. She couldn't find him amidst the confusion.

"Geralt," she choked out his name and it became a soft, helpless sob, almost a whimper.

"Solona," his voice was commanding now, almost in her ears more than her mind. Had he finally found her?

"Solona," he said again, shaking her more firmly than before. "Wake up."

He'd awoken from a terrifying dream of his own to her harsh sobs as she cried in her sleep. She choked out another pitiful sob that made his heart ache. He wondered if she was somehow dreaming the same dream he'd just escaped from. He hadn't seen her in his dream, however, and that's what had terrified him the most.

"Geralt?" She turned and reached for him. He pulled her close and held her tightly in his arms.

"Shhh," he whispered into her ear. He felt tears begin to sting his eyes as he stroked her back through her tunic.

He was still overwhelmed by the feeling of desperation from his own dream. He'd been standing alone in a barren, snow-covered field. She was just gone and he had no way to find her. The world had grown dark and desolate and then began to crumble beneath his feet, consumed by chaos. It was his fault. He had lost her. They had failed.

"Shhh," he whispered again. "You're safe."

He felt her hot tears soaking through his shirt and hoped he wasn't lying.