A/N: Hello to whoever is reading this! I hope you are safe and well. The story takes place within the universe, during the early life of Geralt before the time he arrives at Blaviken and his other adventures begin.
Springtime comes as a lullaby to rock winter into her seasonal bed-chamber. Winter lays down her icy bouquet for a long sleep as spring waves in a sea of vivid blooms. As the days warm, as their sunny reach grows longer, the ice melts, and spring is welcomed by the greenest entourage. Geralt observes the snow-topped peaks extending arms of rock beneath the lake. The scenery is beautiful and serene, quiet and cool. He walks alongside his mare through the dense forest, just below the mountainside. Later in the day, he stops and bathes in the hot springs. With no particular destination in mind, and knowing darkness will soon fall. He is actively seeking a place to take shelter.
Emerging from the forest and into a clearing, the drifter peered out through the trees just as the sun was dipping below the horizon. Shadows crept in as daylight receded and the wind shifted and billowed. The scent of baked bread invades his senses. The clean, slightly sweet, yeasty aroma that somehow smells warm, like inhaling a blanket on a cold winter day was wafting through the air. The scents can vary from the sweet fragrance of cinnamon and vanilla to the earthy aroma of freshly risen dough. His belly grumbles with hunger. He soon catches a view of a small log cabin and moves towards the home. He ties his chestnut-colored mare to the hitching post next to a most brilliant white stallion. He watches them for a moment happily feeding them the oats and alfalfa hay piled on the ground.
"Hmm, a friend and food, good job Roach." He gives his mare a loving pat on her neck.
"They'll need water to wash it all down," a soft voice says from behind.
He turns quickly and is caught off guard by a young maiden approaching him. He peered at her, noticing her round earth-toned face was marked by striking black eyes and full lips. She nods towards the horses; her arms heavy with a wooden bucket full of water. She takes a step forward, some of the water sloshes over and she almost trips over her long flowing dress.
"Allow me," He offers quickly taking the bucket with one hand and effortlessly placing it in between the horses.
"Thank you," Her eyes slowly glanced away, "I'm Anemone of Vizema." She smiled sheepishly, subtle dimples giving her an innocent appearance than the shyness provided.
"Geralt of Rivia." He says. He had a sharpness to his gaze as scanned his surroundings.
"Now the horses have eaten; would you care for a bite to eat...?" She offers the Witcher, even though she is familiar with his kind and their reputation. Most people of a certain class would have no involvement with a Witcher. She is not afraid; Anemone is an empath with clairvoyant abilities. She sees that tonight he means no harm and is in need of food and shelter for the night. She sees no harm in feeding the handsome stranger and sending him on his way. At dawn, her family will return from the palace and they will return to their land together.
"I could eat." Sensing lesser magic, most likely a protection spell, he accepts her offer.
"You may also rest and take shelter here for tonight," Her dark eyes had drifted over her shoulder before she turned leading him to the house.
She is kind he says to himself, too kind and it makes him wonder. He wonders if this is a lure, perhaps even another one of Vasemir's tests. Geralt closes the door behind him. The cabin, although small is clean, surrounded by warm, honey-hued logs. He peers around the single-room home containing a crackling blaze on a beautiful stone hearth with an oven. On the opposite side of the home is a modest bed, and a cushioned bench flush against a large window. In the furthest corner, a very nice bath, just waiting to be filled with hot water.
She gave Geralt a coy glance before placing the fresh loaf of bread into the oven.
"Before Mother left this morning to Bon Ard, she prepared the bread, she'll return at first light hopefully with plenty of goods for our journey."
"Hmm," Geralt cocked one eyebrow high, patiently waiting for the bread to cook.
"Mother is known in many lands for her jams and cider," She mentions while placing jars of butter, honey, grape, strawberry, pear, and hot pepper jams on the table, "I make them all here."
As soon as the bread is done she cuts the loaf in half, serving his ration. She fills their mugs with crisp sweet Apple cider, "We sell and trade our jams and cider at the market and make enough allowing us to pay the king's taxes in one week…would you like to try some jam?" Her gentle eyes peered at him while sliding one of the jars next to his plate.
"Just butter…please."He peered back at her with impassive eyes.
"Where are you on your way to?" She cast her eyes away in a smug gesture, sipping her cider. She was determined to gain a new customer for her family's well-known and favored jam.
"Ard Carraigh," Geralt murmured before taking a massive gulp of drink. The robust taste of the cider was undeniably sweeter than regular apple juice.
"To see the King?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement. She wondered what business the Witcher had with King Foltest.
"Yes," His golden eyes burrowed into hers with an unrelenting glare.
She took a bite of bread and waited for him to elaborate but he did not. He asked nothing of her and quietly ate heaping mouthfuls of bread.
"Very well, enjoy," Anemone thought nothing of it and concluded Geralt was not much for conversing, and as long as she meant him no harm he was satisfied.
Geralt uses his knife, cutting a slice and putting butter on the bread while it is still warm. The young man could not recall having freshly made bread...ever. He had recently only eaten the fish he caught, which was very easy for him. He and Roach often foraged together for wild-growing fruits and vegetables. His thoughts shift and he finds himself watching the butter melt into the crannies of the bread, smooth and unctuous pale-yellow wonderfulness, and he is in bread heaven.
The room falls silent as the two of them eat, drink, and gaze upon each other. The fireplace upon wintry nights glows with radiant gold flames. The flickering light cast dark shadows under his broad chin, cheekbones, and broad chin making his sharp, square jawline appear bolder. The added darkness made his golden eyes even more striking. The stubble shadowed his jaw, making it hard to hold his gaze without blushing.
With her sultry eyes half-mast, long dark coiled hair, she is a sight to behold. In the dim light, her eyes were still luminous and breathtaking. Anemone is a divine cascade of supple brown skin that glows beneath the light of the fire, he could not take his eyes off her. He gazed raptly at her pert breasts rise, and fall steadily with each breath admiring her buxom frame. He'd become especially intoxicated over the thoughts of her breasts filling his calloused hands.
"Hmm," A little smirk creeps on one side of his lip raising just a bit. His thick brows furrow as he is taken aback. He was unable to recall the last time, he was unable to contain the feeling washing through him.
"Pardon?" Her eyes narrowed, noticing his lustful gaze. A momentary look of discomfort crossed her face.
"What are you doing to me?" he murmurs, gently biting his bottom lip. his body heating all over and the long-lost feeling of need sourcing into his loins. He holds his medallion with one hand, Geralts curious stare is steady, but the rest of his body is not. The man was practically vibrating with restraint.
"Feeding you and offering you shelter from the cold, if that does not suit you, I bid you farewell." She lets out a little sigh. Her long lashes flutter in confusion. She can feel his agitation and something else; she too can now feel something unnatural.
He brings the mug to his lips and drinks the rest of the cider. Abruptly slamming the empty mug on the table, "Turn your gaze." he commands. He was a mountain of a man, both tall and ample of build.
"I will not!" The lovely maiden sharply replies, feeling overwhelmed, like she was losing control of her situation.
"You will regret it if you don't." Thoughtlessly and for a moment, he shut his eyes in an attempt to shake the impure thoughts that invaded his mind. Geralt is rapidly losing the battle of restraint, "Turn your gaze," he says slowly, his eyes still closed.
"I will not turn my back on you, you are behaving quite oddly." Her voice was edged with tension as her mind spirally out of control.
"Fine" he grunts, the last bit of restraint evaporated like boiling water, and quickly stands.
"Geralt!" She gasped, her eyes widened as a trickle of fear surfaced at the back of her neck. She quickly realizes why he asked her to turn away. Her eyes slowly fall and linger on the massive bulge tenting his trousers causing her to take in another audible inhalation of air and her cheeks to burn fire hot.
"I'm sorry Anemone." His breath grew thin and ragged. He planned to quickly exit, but his body would not allow him to walk away...from her. He growled The air crackled with tension. He was compelled to her, and he could not overcome his urges.
"Sorry for what!?" Her heart flutters as her worry increases.
"For what I am about to do." His golden eyes turn pitch black; his face is suddenly stern and dark. giving the handsome man a menacing appearance. As his jaw tightened, veins pulsating His face contorted into a mask of rage, brows furrowed, lips curled into a snarl, his very presence radiating a menacing aura that warned of an impending eruption.
"Please, do not come any closer!" The girl screams, grabbing the pitcher of water from the table, and quickly rising from her seat. The chair falls over and she stumbles back. The room seems to spin, a dizzying dance of lights and colors, as nervousness wraps its tendrils around her and takes another defensive step back. She knows there is no escape; she is trapped inside the isolated cabin with a Witcher. A lightning-fast movement sweeps through the room, and before Anemone's eyes even could begin to follow it, she flinches and spins around with a yelp. The dark-skinned beauty whirls around with all her nerves on end. He quickly tears through the room reaching for her. She swings and hits him over the head with the tin container.
He grunts feeling the sharp sting of the blunt object hitting the top of his head, slightly agitated, he lightly pushes her. The push was firm enough, sending her stumbling back on her feet, she did not fall but she dropped the empty pitcher.
"Anemone," he growled He barked with the authority of a man who was not to be crossed. Geralt's dark eyes are like darts boring into her. When he moves forward, she yelps and steps backward. When her back is flush with the wall he stops; standing just a few inches from her. He smiles wickedly and starts to unbutton his shirt.
"Geralt," Her already large eyes grew into wide circles.
"I'm all wet now..." Geralt says velvety. His eyes never falter from hers; He slowly removes his shirt; then his boots and then his trousers. He stands before her, his pale skin is very wet, very naked, and very, very hard.
"I think you're right, there is some magic happening! I can feel it...Can your medallion detect it?!" She stared, in a catatonic stupor grinding out the words between clenched teeth
"Yes…It is your magic; you are doing this to me...you put something in the food...or the drink..." He stumbled over his words, tongue tripping over the rush of thoughts clamoring for attention. The mood shifted. His icy gaze is piercing, but not hostile so much as inquiring. The water slicked his long white mane, and small drops trickled down his broad shoulders onto his chest, traveling down his muscular abs and onto…
Anemone jerked her head upwards and she clutched her chest, feeling her heart race, each beat a thunderous echo of the surprise gripping her.
"No…I didn't…I wouldn't…would she...?" the young woman stammers. "I don't understand…!" Her eyebrows shot up, forming a high arch of astonishment. She finds herself digging her front teeth into her lip hard enough to draw blood.
Geralt's smooth pale face looks as if carved in stone, "What type of spell is this…" Geralt hissed, slightly between his full lips. "I – I can't control..." Their breath hitched, caught in their throat, a suspended moment of silence as if the shock had momentarily stolen the very sound of their voice.
His big frame towered above her, casting a shadow. She is like the mouse in front of a snake, waiting for him to sink his teeth into her quivering flesh. He takes hold of the collar of her dress, her body trembles as the soft unfocused ripping of fabric echoes in the room as Geralt forcefully disrobes her.
"Ahhh," she screams helplessly.
"Beautiful," He groans at the sight before him.
"Thank you…" she murmured. Quickly, she places her hand over her exposed heaving breast. She clutched her chest, feeling her heart race, each beat a thunderous echo of the surprise gripping her, "You must control your urges Geralt!" She knew she was being controlled and her desires for this stranger were magic-driven.
He moves her hands from her breast and pulls the ripped dress from her shoulders, He lustfully gazes at the climbing and falling of her now bare breast with each intake and exhale of air, spurring him even more. With one step there is no space between them.
"Anemone…you smell so fucking good…" Geralt breathes against her; he snakes his arms around her, his prominent nose nestled in the crook of her neck and his hands rest on the small of her back. "…Peppermint, vanilla, and jasimine…so sweet…" The last part is more like a hiss and Anemone feels his hard hot cock pressed against her belly. He listens intently as she whimpers and sighs prettily.
"Please..."She finds herself pressing hard against him. His scent is intoxicating to her, the smell of cypress, coriander, and musk invades her nostrils. His fingers moving in lazy circles further down, he grabs her plump bottom and lifts her thigh so that her leg wraps around his leg.
He maneuvers her to the bed which is only a few steps away, gently laying her down, he lays on top of her. Anemone gasps, trying her hardest not to collapse into a shivering heap on the bed.
"Anemone, I don't understand what you are doing to me…I've never wanted anything as bad as I want you now." Geralt had surrendered to the magic of his desires.
"Geralt, we must not give in to the magic controlling…you…me…us." She wanted to fight and needed to.
"I – I…I've never…" He begins; but at the same time, his fingers reach her sex, pressing firmly against her throbbing clit and he forgets his words.
"Ahhh Geralt!" She sees bright sparks in her eyes, blackening her vision. His touch was delicious. She is so swollen, so wet, "Please don't…!" she whimpers, her hips arching forward to meet Geralt's hand. She is upset with the way her body is responding to his touch. Anemone clenches her jaws. She wants to be mad at him so badly, but the state she is in blurs the lines between anger and raw arousal to the point where her body can do nothing but throb in confusion.
"I need you." He kisses her lips, and neck and moves down to her breast... "I've never needed anything more," taking a nipple into his mouth and gently sucking, eliciting a soft moan of unrestrained pleasure from her. Geralt moves lower, seizes her thighs, positioning them on his broad shoulders and he is there; his head between her legs. He inhaled her scent, "Hmm" he growled. His still-damp hair brushed the inside of her thighs as he brought her up to his mouth, tasting her chocolate-colored skin.
"Oh!", Her entire body shudders in pleasure as his tongue strokes her wet folds, sinking in, and claiming her. She feels dizzy, drunkenly, building waves up to her center, and his mouth moves slowly upwards, kissing and sucking… Anemone sinks into the bed as Geralt encloses her glistening pearl with his lips, darting his tongue out against it, once, twice…his teeth graze her most sensitive area and she is done for. A raw, fiery surge strikes her, and Anemone comes with a high-pitched moan, her fists full of the coverlet, hard wet spasms entwining her inside. Anemone's climax hadn't satisfied her as much as it had fueled her aching arousal. The Witcher's hands and searing mouth erase every thought she might have in fighting the magic that is controlling them. She couldn't resist him if she wanted to. It is like she is fulfilling a force of nature.
"So wet," He groans while sliding his hard thick member against her damp, swollen, and sensitive entrance. His lips pressed softly against the burning skin of her neck, and he continues to rub his cock all over her clit; as if asking permission even though he is going to do it whether she approves it or not. His rubbing stimulated her and opened her legs wider for him. He slowly pushes the tip of his manhood into her opening and pauses; she is so tight and so incredibly wet, that he nearly loses his mind.
"Fuck," He groans. He is trying to be gentle, despite his urges, he knows how big he is and truly does not want to hurt her.
Slowly he pushes his cock into her quivering folds, inch by glourous inch. Their bodies shudder and they both moan in unison, they become overwhelmed by the feeling of their union. He pauses when he is submerged completely inside of her, his cock throbbing, begging for release. She moans helplessly into his mouth as his length stretches her. His hips meet hers pressing deliciously into her engorged clit.
"Geralt…need you…oh…" She cries like a fox in heat, writhing; The Witcher is awakening something feral inside of her.
Rapting with pleasure, she begins moving underneath him. Her hips gyrate in an erotic dance until the sensation rewards her with an earth-shattering orgasm, making her contract hard around Geralt's massive cock. When her quivering walls came to a stop, He withdrew slowly, so that only the bulbous head of his cock remained inside of her; enjoying the feeling of her tightness as her inner walls caressed every inch of him. With all the strength in his body, he pushed back inside, his dick twitching with abandon. His body thrusting specifically, plugging, with a propulsive force the entire bed shakes. He becomes lost in his actions, all he can do is submit.
"Ahh, ugh, oh!" A loud keening sound filled the room and it took him a moment to realize it was him. "Fuck!" He moans out, and then he is cumming, his cock violently spilling his hot seed deep into her quivering womb. Her body is a heaving, sweat-gloved heap beneath him. His breath came in hot bursts against her ear and they were sated, nothing had ever been more perfect.
"You took my virginity!" She whimpers breathlessly.
When he looks at her again his face is resolute, "Hmm…and you took mine, ever so cunningly, I might add." He tries to keep the corners of his mouth from tugging into a grin to no avail.
"I –I…didn't…" she stutters, wishing she understood what just happened. But there is something about this man, this Witcher.
"You were a virgin too…?" She is utterly confused.
"Yes, I was…" he says, "Now rest, I am not done with you," Geralt's amused grin fades and his golden eyes fall shut. Just a few moments later he whispers, "Anemone, I'm ready." He grasps her legs, placing them around his waist. The sexy woman felt the tip of his manhood nudging her wetness.
"Already!" Anemone rasps.
"Hmmm," Geralt grunts; his eyes are on her like hot iron.
He climbs on top of her and she moans and claws at Geralt's back as he places bruising kisses on her neck and collarbone, moving down to take one of her pert nipples into his warm wet mouth. Her back arched up to meet him, and he held her down at her wrists, grinding his groin against her throbbing mound. She had barely time to feel his lips against her neck before he plunged his length into her, but she was ready, so very ready. His strong arms wrap around her upper body, holding on, and she arches her back in a smooth bow, allowing him further in. She feels his power vibrating in the air between them, consuming all oxygen. His eyes, so much like pools of electricity, lock with hers, and his hand moves across her cheek, his thumb caressing her lips. Anemone moans with unrestrained pleasure, her body arching into their combined touch, her nerves sparking, her senses reeling. She whimpers, trembling with the pleasure, her juices flowing so immensely that they wet the insides of her thighs. Geralt is moaning while cupping her breasts in his hands, pinching her nipples with his fingers, and watching as the sparks travel down her body, bringing her close to oblivion once again. She hears him moaning, the sound more animal than human, the heat, the touch...the desperation. They fill him, consume him, slay him. He brings her fingers to his lips kissing them, savoring them. Humming in pleasure she swirls her tongue around his fingers. He continues thrusting with long even strokes; her pussy pulsing around his cock, squeezing him, stroking him with every swell of her occurring climax. Geralt grits his teeth trying to hold back his release. As her orgasm seems to calm to small ripples, he begins to move faster, stroking in and out of her tightness, deep and smooth. Her aroused body reacts instantly, her sex clenching him, pulsing and vibrating, releasing a violent thing that she couldn't harness.
"Geralt!" She cries out, her voice breaking at the height of ecstasy. The Witcher's cock is relentless, his movements forceful, demanding, rocking her toward another powerful release. And another until she couldn't tell where one orgasm ended and another began.
"Anemone," he mutters roughly, his movements becoming more and more frantic. He drives into her, feeling the electricity they share snapping around them. Building and building, urging him harder and deeper until they both cried out. He joins her, groaning, quivering, and his release spurting hot and deep inside, his dick pulsing in response to her body's rhythm. The fireplace paints their bodies in a yellow glow as they engage intimately, hands grazing, mouths suckling, bodies thrusting. He collapses beside her. After a few moments, he tucks her tightly to his side. She has already fallen asleep.
Geralt can almost taste the freshness of the crisp night air. Through the window, He can view the dark, moonlit trees of the mountain, grouped in silent formations. The crackling fire gives him a welcome warmth as he gets comfortable on the bed. He can smell the wood burning and faintly hear a small rustle in the surrounding greenery that is trees and tall bushes. As he turns onto his side, he looks around the cabin one last time. His eyes travel over the ceiling, immediately drawn to the hole in the center. For a fleeting moment, he thinks he sees an eye peering back at him. He blinks and sees only the night sky. The fire becomes quieter and quieter as the seconds pass. While his eyes grow heavy, he turns on his stomach once again, he gently pats Anemone's plump ass before resting his arm on his belly and falling asleep.
He drifts into a vivid dream. The land is like none he has ever seen before. A lush forest amongst a most bright landscape. The wind bellows and he takes in its sweet fragrance with a deep inhale through his nose the scent of Anemone carried through the air. When he breathes in again, he closes his eyes, he sees a vision – A blur of images floods his mind. He sees Anemone swollen with a child, an image of an unfamiliar land, a flash of a growing toddler that looks like him, then, a young man, confused and unsure… and then he is back.
He opens his eyes and sees two cloaked figures riding swiftly across the clearing. A woman in a red cloak and a smaller figure riding in the rear wearing a black cloak. Although he cannot see her, he knows the one in the red cloak is Anemone. She is riding her beautiful white stallion. He felt a jolt surge through his body and he mounted his mare and pursued her. She turns and rides the horse in haste toward an open portal. An older dark-skinned woman in a violet-colored hooded cloak, holding a large golden scepter emerges from the swirling vortex of energy, she is chatting in an unknown language. Anemone and her small passenger approach the portal as a forceful wind blows sweeping the cap from the woman and child.
"Anemone!" Geralt yells, while frantically riding toward her.
Anemone stops the horse and whips her head back to the sound of her name. Her long raven coils blew haphazardly in the wind. When she catches sight of Geralt, she looks at him positively stunned, but only for a moment. Soon a loving smile emerges and she waves with one hand, mouthing 'goodbye'. The child curiously turns his head too. Although the child resembles Anemone, he can see himself in the young lad.
How can this be? His confused gaze falls intently on the child with snow-white hair and golden eyes like his own. It can't be...Geralt urges his mare to go at full speed toward them. The older woman quickly grabs the reins of the white stallion and pulls them to her. She chants in a foreign tongue and the three of them are swallowed into the shimmering doorway before Geralt can reach them. Suddenly he is awake and it is morning. He is naked on the bed inside the empty cabin. Still, he knew what happened was no dream.
A/N: Please comment and let me know if you like this random one-shot no one asked for. Thank you!
The first & original goddess
Radiates sun-soaked beauty
Through her divinely graced presence
A living symbol of mother-nature
In every sense
Defined by her intricate mind
Not solely
By her much-desired
Naturally, curvaceous, feminine body type
The sweet dark brown mother of Gods who walks amongst mere mortals
She gave birth to the colorful spectrum of mankind
Much maligned, envied, and hated
For her unwavering resilience and extraordinary strength of mind
She exudes brilliance, in every one of her endeavors
In essence, she is the perfect embodiment of universal excellence
Fierce in spirit a spiritually powerful
Warrior Princess
Naturally intuitive and intelligent
Forever she holds the key to the eternal equilibrium of the planet
For her sacred divinity is beyond measure
She is the first deity & life bearer
Nature's most dominant force
Again, she will reign
On her throne on Earth
For all to admire and honor
The dazzling beauty of the Black Goddess