3.

"Geralt, how would you feel about a quick dip?"

The question had come out of nowhere, but the White Wolf humored it with a lifted brow. From his place beside the cottage hearth, sharpening one of his swords, the Witcher wondered aloud, "Is my stench really so foul as to force you to such lengths?"

"Lengths? What are you on about?" The Sunflower Healer wondered uncomprehendingly from where she stood near her shelves. She was taking inventory of her many herbs and remedies- flitting back and forth between her stores and her worktable.

Geralt's golden gaze followed her every move, as her fingers ghosted over her handwritten labels, before he returned his attention to his own handiwork, eyes dropping back to the whetstone. "Simply that if my smell is so repugnant, you could have told me outright … instead of dropping pretty hints."

Lyn stopped her own task now, rolling her eyes heavenward. "Alright, wolf, that's more than enough cheek from you." Wiping her hands on the broad skirts of her dress, she walked over to stand beside her house-guest, observing the glinting blade in his massive hands with interest. Both of their reflections gazed back in the silver sheen. "I don't find you repellent, Geralt. But while you are still healing, I must insist that you take care of yourself. Your wound site hasn't been thoroughly cleaned since I bandaged you up. Or have you forgotten?"

It had been three days since the Witcher had nearly died on the Healer's doorstep, and though he'd been mending nicely, he had yet to leave the cottage.

In short, he hadn't forgotten, and he had no complaints.

Geralt made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, which only served to amuse Lyn further.

"You can call it professional concern, if you like."

"Mmmm-hmmm."

"... So does that mean you'll humor me?"

Geralt considered for several minutes, unblinking and silent, before he nodded the affirmative. In truth, the notion of getting clean was welcomed, but he'd enjoyed teasing Lynara a little too much.

When she offered him both of her hands, a wordless invitation off the floor, he accepted after carefully sheathing his blade. Once he was on his feet, he turned to grab the sword, but a gentle hand on his forearm stopped him.

"You won't need it," she promised.

Geralt's lips twitched. It would seem that she had read his mind. Not that it was a surprise. Lynara had known him for a long time, and he was very much a creature of habit.

He never went anywhere without a weapon. But considering that Lyn could boil the blood out of someone's veins if provoked, he figured they'd be safe enough. Not to mention his own proficiency at spellwork and quick reflexes.

So obediently, the Witcher left his sword behind and followed her out into the mild afternoon.

The first day after he'd arrived at the cottage, Geralt had been unable to walk on his own. The creature's bite had weakened him considerably. But after three days of rest and Lynara's cooking, he was able to move without aid. He was more sluggish than usual, but he hadn't been too concerned about his lethargy. Out in the forest shanty with only the healer for company, his usual paranoia had been less proactive. It hadn't fully disappeared. Vesimir's teachings and his occupation in life had made that impossible. But with Lynara it was peacefully muted.

Currently the dark skinned witch held the garden gate open for them. When he had walked through it, she pointed towards the east. "It isn't far. But if you get tired, please refrain from being brave and keeping it to yourself. I don't want you to overdo things and relapse."

Silently touched by her concern, but altogether unperturbed and doubtful that he would have such a problem, Geralt gestured for her to lead the way. They walked together, entering the forest that surrounded the cottage on all sides in companionable silence. They had traveled for only a few minutes, before Lyn halted and pointed towards a clear pool that rested beneath the shade of two great linden trees. Ripples cascaded across the glassy surface, as they approached, mirroring the canopy and cracks of blue sky that shone overhead. When they stood directly at the edge, the healer knelt down and dipped her hands up to her wrists. Beneath the surface they began to glow with a pale yellow light. The effect only lasted for several seconds before she withdrew her hands and little tendrils of steam began to rise past the ripples.

Lyn turned back to Geralt as she once again wiped her hands on her skirt. "Do you need help undressing? I know you're still sore-" Her hands hovered in the air, ready to assist, but as she caught sight of his amused expression, she quickly lowered them. "Mind out of the gutter, ma'dear~ or I'll push you in, clothes and all."

Geralt chuckled deeply before he began to strip. "Promises, promises," he mumbled good-naturedly.

His tunic came off first, followed closely by his breeches and boots. Lyn had turned away to give him some privacy, but stayed only a foot or so away, in case he needed her. She was a professional when it came to those she'd healed, viewing the human body as simply that. Ever willing to help. Sometimes too willing, but she couldn't be faulted for such compassion. Not when it led to the benefit of so many.

When Geralt had eased into the hot, crystalline waters, he cleared his throat and she turned around. She sat on the edge as he waded, offering a curious expression as she tried to gauge his reaction. "How's the water? Too hot?"

"It's perfect."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, all is well. So you can cease your fussing, Sunflower."

Chocolate eyes glinted mockingly, but she let his jab pass as she settled happily onto the grassy bank. She wordlessly handed him a soap bar from within the folds of her dress and lay back out of view.

Geralt began to clean himself unhurriedly, scrubbing the grime and sweat from his skin. His new torso scars were still tender to the touch, but the heated water worked wonders on his muscles, granting him a sense of relief that was second only to a freshly brewed health potion.

As he splashed water on his arms and chest, Lyn hummed to catch his attention. With an outstretched hand she bounced her eyebrow. When she wiggled her fingers expectantly, he handed her the soap with little complaint. After brushing his hair aside, she helped clean the contours of his back and shoulders. Then, she had him tip and began to scrub his hair with the contents of another bottle she'd brought with her. It smelled of mint and felt like absolute heaven as she worked it through every strand of his white mane.

When she'd finished, Geralt disappeared beneath the surface of the pool. And when he reemerged his hair was rinsed thoroughly.

Lyn appeared pleased, and once more settled back in the grass. She seemed content to let him soak for as long as he wanted…

But there was something missing… The experience lacking somehow. After a time it hit him.

"Lynara?"

She sat up from where she'd been laying in the grass, giving him her full attention. "Hmm? You need something, luv?"

He nodded, and the healer offered him a sweet little smile, waiting for him to reveal his intent.

"... Would you care for a dip?" His full-toned voice echoed her earlier question, the smallest indication of humor coloring his tone.

Her dark skin flushed rather prettily, as she stared at him for a moment. Then she shook her head with mild embarrassment. "... I'm not sure either of us could handle that, Geralt."

He glanced down at the water, before once more lifting his golden gaze to her. It was true that there had been a spark between them since her last birthday- something that neither had been able to reconcile… But it didn't stop him from wanting her to join him. And it didn't mean he wouldn't treat her with respect should something more arise betwixt them.

The Witcher said nothing more, but his mouth turned with the lightest of smiles as he regarded her. It was a guileless expression, and from the way his Sunflower inhaled, he'd stolen her breath away…

Lyn was still for quite some time, appraising him. And he almost thought she'd refuse his request… but then with a little sigh, she toed-off her shoes and stockings.

Geralt knew that he should look away as she began to disrobe, but something stopped him. He watched as each layer of the day-dress was shed, until only her shift remained. He could see her curves uninhibited now, and the striking ebony flesh that she hid so well… Against the off-white of the shift the contrast was quite intoxicating… Slowly she lifted her arms to pull it off…

The Witcher turned his back before she was completely bared to him, giving her time to settle her clothing on the bank and join him in the hotspring. He listened to her bare feet on the grass and the rustle of fabric being placed down… And then the gentle splash of water. He didn't move. It was a lesson in patience, and he forced himself to stay where he was despite the longing that had begun to build within. . . It was only when he felt a soft hand land on his bicep that he allowed himself to shift.

She was beautiful….

The steaming water covered most of Lynara's body from view, but he could still see the tops of her ample breasts, collarbone, and the long slope of her neck. The woman was covered in freckles and scars… Her body was a patchwork of markings, each gained by the life she led. It enthralled him to no end.

The blush had spread all the way down her chest now, and the Witcher admired the subtle difference in hue, before he reached a long arm back for the shampoo.

Lyn watched him before smiling, "... I take it you're going to return the favor then?"

"Mmmm." He agreed.

Obediently Lyn drew closer, and Geralt went about his self-appointed task. He scrubbed the concoction into her scalp with light fingers, smiling to himself as she sighed happily. He could attest to how good it felt. She'd almost put him to sleep when she'd washed his hair several minutes before.

The Witcher took his time, before he cradled her in his massive arms and helped rinse out her corkscrew curls. Then, he took the soap bar in hand. He met her demure gaze with a silent question, but she made no objections- save for an involuntary shiver.

Still cradling her in his arms, he began to wash the rest of her body. Her legs and feet, the length of her arms, her neck and shoulders and back… And when he came to her chest, he met her eyes again, waiting.

Lynara's placed her hand atop his own, and together they continued, never looking away from one another. He could feel her heartbeat against his knuckles, as he finished. It was surprisingly calm, considering how flushed she was.

He allowed himself to look down for a moment, and once again his fingers brushed the valley between her breasts. A vast scar ran down the length of her entire torso, well past her stomach. The skin was ragged and razed, and discolored- ghostly white against the dark of her skin. It wasn't a normal scar… Something otherworld had caused it.

The tips of his fingers quested over the ridges, the question of his touch obvious.

"Someday." Lyn's muted tones were sad, and he held her closer to his chest as they waded together. "... One day I will tell you… But not today."

There was a story behind this marking. A pain-filled piece of the Sunflower Healer's past.

A story for another time.

The Witcher leaned down to press a chaste kiss to the top of the scar, nuzzling the witch's warmth in the intimacy of the moment. "When you're ready." And not a moment before.

They soaked together for the better part of an hour, before climbing out and drying off. But even as they redressed and walked back to the cottage, Lynara never let go of his hand.

A/N: In honor of Season 2 of The Witcher being released, I decided it was time to update this story. Sorry for the super-duper long wait. Hopefully the fluff and romantic steam will help make up for it. Thanks for reading~

See ya'll in the next installment.