#Geralt x Emhyr

[coversbymeta]

Fan Cover for A Year in Toussaint, by @astolat

Geralt had no damn idea what to do with a vineyard when Anna Henrietta gave him Corvo Bianco, but he figured it couldn’t be that bad.

This is one of my favorite Witcher fics by astolat, and is so sweet and clever and surprising. Go read it!

Art is Clouds over Olana by Frederich Edwin Church, of the Hudson River School; and Fonts are Black Rush and Trajanus Roman.

[emys-123]

Cries in rarepair.

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

They finally see each other, eye to eye

To all my friends who love this ship!

Photo shot by @eycsnow666, and my Ps alterations.

[laurikarauchscat]

Thou shalt not approach the Emperor's Witcher with either a doublet, nor a razor.

This is known.

[eycsnow666]

witcher screenshot compilations

got a bunch of stray imgur links floating around on discord, but here they all are! mostly of character swaps to emhyr. be warned that character swaps involving female->male skeletons may be a bit...cursed ahah. check the reblogs for further additions, because the original post is cranky abt any more links being added to it.

shoutout to @tigerlyla-of-metinna who's done amazing edits to some of these pics and also for enabling my new hobby

Emhyr visits Kaer Morhen

quest is No Place Like Home, swaps are Lambert to Geralt, Yen to Ciri, Geralt to Emhyr. Emhyr graces Kaer Morhen with his imperial presence. in return, the witchers convince him to drink himself silly. welp, what dignity was lost was regained in camaraderie

La Cage au Fou ft.a sad hedgehog

while out trapping monsters, Geralt accidentally captures...the emperor of nilfgaard?? how he got there aside, he's in pretty bad shape and has apparently gone feral. lucky there's a witcher who's been through this rodeo before, so emhyr's in safe hands <3

Roche to Emhyr and Ves to Ciri

quests are Eye for an Eye and Reason of State, with bonus swaps Dijkstra to Dettlaff and Thaler to Regis. Ever wanted to see Emhyr plotting against Emhyr? these pics have you covered! also included: emhyr and geralt being big damn heroes, and drunk uncle Dettlaff giving Regis a headache by quoting Macbeth Vakmeth scenes. See one of my reblogs for this link, bc this post doesn't want to save with it here for some reason.

Emhyr x Geralt hugs (Blood Run quest)

Regis's expressions make Emhyr look so soft 💖

Something Ends, Something Begins (Geralt to Emhyr)

soft moments with Ciri and Emhyr getting some dad moments in.

Ciri's Story: Out of the Shadows (Baron to Emhyr)

Emhyr has a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Emhyr may be a snacc but his daughter's here to make sure he doesn't become a snack (for basilisks)

The Battle of Kaer Morhen ft.The White Flame (Geralt to Emhyr). lots of Sadmyr and tender moments with Ciri

father's day at kaer morhen

Geralt to Emhyr swap, quest is Blood on the Battlefield. Emhyr and Ciri destress with a snowball fight. Geralt's sitting out this one, probably collapsed of sheer shock from learning that Emhyr is capable of experiencing fun.

Emralt, now with reduced clothes!

Yen to Emhyr, the opening scene at Kaer Morhen. yeah these are actually Yen's body proportions bc Yen's skeleton but shhhhh

A Midnight Clear: Shani to Emhyr mod

more spooky scary (animation) skeletons

A Midnight Clear: spiciest Emralt highlights

Geralt x Emhyr action. don't look at the proportions too closely, just lie back and think of nilfgaard

[katiecat446]

hello tumblr friends I have made a discord server for some of my fellow emhyr fans/emralt shippers and I!

with twitter going down the drain and tumblr lacking certain functionality, we’re using this server for socializing and to keep track of our favorite artists + writers.

you don’t need to be an emralt shipper to join - several of us are multishippers and this isn’t even a true “shipping server” anyway. You just need to be over 18 (it’s not graphically nsfw, the rule is just in case), and not like… hate emhyr or something.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Some of my Emralt fics on Tumblr

Mine Is The Sunlight, Mine IS The Morning (918 words, M) Is It Love That Glows In Fiery Alignment? (2368 words, G-T) Die, Die, My Darling (8800 Words, T-M) Come Be Our Beacon Shining Bright (9289 words, T) All Is Not It Seems To Be On The Outside (3085 words, T) 'Cos You Know We've Got The Power Of Healin' Love (2183 words, T) For We Know The Joy Of Life, The Piece That Love Can Bring (1573 words, M-E) Take Hold Of The Flame (2897 words, M-E) Life's A Bitch And I've Been Shaken (12953 words, T) Beast of Gévaudan (5482 words, T) 3-Tweet-Fics

[codringher-and-fenn]

This is a classic in the Emralt rarepair realm, the gold standard for non-book purists or villian apologists (based solely on the games, so there is no mention of the E/C plot line.) The plot is exceptional, the machinations are intense, and the perfect bottom Geralt characterization will leave butterflies in your stomach.

Author Highlight: @astolat is a published author as well as a founding member of AO3. She is incredibly talented & has works across many fandoms!

[consistentsquash]

Witcher Slash Fic Rec - Wiosna

Wiosna by eldritcher

Pairing - Geralt/Emhyr. Rating - M. 50000 words.

Canon blind reading - I don't feel this is going to make sense without canon understanding.

Rec because - If you are done with winter already and need some spring in your life this is for you! I don't know how a fic can feel like a season. But this one definitely has that. It's got a joyful happy ending. It's a really joyful fic. Not fluffy, pretty dark and intense. But really joyful. Ends with a kiteflying competition! <3

Something really unique in my opinion is the cultural vibe. It feels grounded in the same cultural vibe of the canon. Even the prose feels like it's got that vibe. Dark, melancholy, evocative, hopeful.

Beautiful hurt/comfort old school slash fic. Midlife crisis emotionally messed up dudes. No big plot. 100% characterization and interiority focus. The pacing is gentle and it gets the feelings to soak. Like slowcooker chicken soup if slowcooker chicken soup has got lots and lots of smut.

The smut is really hot and also we get a lot of it. Complicated power dynamics. The relationship arc is beautiful.

Not really bombastic. No high drama or big moments. But it's got a sneaky undercurrent with really dark folklore which gets resolved and feels like the winter to spring transition.

Geralt's characterization feels true to Canon Geralt. Really other, really jaded, really cautious but also hopeful. Same for Ciri. Emhyr's characterization is brilliant. He is messed up and messy is fun in fic.

Two big relationship arcs. Geralt/Emhyr is the romance. Ciri's reconcilation with Emhyr is the platonic side. It's not really a fixit because nothing gets fixed which makes sense for this canon. I don't know how to explain. But I feel the intricacy/nuance made the relationship arcs more beautiful in this case.

It gets the twisted Rumpelstiltskin type canon vibe with a happy ending.

Getting a Vibe Quote is super hard because it's a flowing fic and hard to excerpt. But it's great. Trust me! <3

art source Mazur by Zofia Stryjenska, Joys of Spring by Rene Lelong

[bittersweetbark]

State of Mind

a paranormal crime investigation novel with creepy telepathy zombies, doom, angst, whump and blood, taking place in Nilfgaard's City of Golden Towers (The Witcher), featuring Geralt/Emhyr and a little bit of Vernilla essence. (Sequel to "The Gentleman will be removed from the Situation", yes Mererid and also Ronvid.)

[tripodsinhats]

If we don’t get to see Henry’s Geralt interact with Emhyr though…. I’m gonna be so disappointed

[queenofyumcha]

excerpt of take heart, beloved

Geralt/Duny, this beloved excerpt of mine is non-explicit and needs no warnings.

THE ACTUAL FIC ITSELF HAS MANY WARNINGS. Please read the tags!

-/-

"This is unnecessary. You needn't waste your time."

"Are you so different, Witcher, that infection cannot kill one of your kind?"

"They pump us full of poison as children. What is infection in the face of that? It does not hurt. I have sustained much worse, from worse."

Geralt watches him intently as Emhyr tends to his wounds, washing away dust and blood, smoothing salve over cuts. He is uncomfortable with being so closely monitored, his skin almost prickling under scrutiny, the phantom feeling of quills emerging from his skin washing over him.

Emhyr is no longer a cursed beast to be hounded from village to village begging for scraps to live. He is no longer a monster to be chased into the forest with baying hounds and lit torches. But he has spent almost half his life so far knowing that to be seen, to be observed is dangerous. The washerwoman that sees him drink from the river could be the human that brings hunters down on his head.

He is human too now, yet his association of being watched with danger has not left him.

"So you mean to tell me monsters cannot feel after all?" He means it as a jest, a shared joke to shift the attention away from him, but Geralt tenses, his jaw set in a firm line as though he girds himself for unpleasantness.

"I am not a monster."

The strained words are as close to emotion as he has ever heard in the other man's voice.

Emhyr pauses, a roll of bandages in his hands. He nods, gently lifting Geralt's arm to start winding the cloth around his wounds.

"Hush, I know."

-/-

Emhyr can feel himself growing attached.

It is inadvisable to grow fond of a man whose place in the court's hierarchy is even lower than yours, even less certain. And yet, here he is. The Witcher, in his quarters far later than is appropriate, at a time when he ought to be gracing his wife's bed. He cannot help it, that is the lie he tells himself. It is odd, in a court full of nobles, that by far the kindest man is here, by his side. A monster-hunter, kinder and more accepting than any lordling.

The fire is dying low in the hearth, but a gesture from Geralt and the flames leap up again, licking ferociously at the barrier that prevents them from spilling forth and burning all that they can reach. Geralt's thigh pressed next to his, they sit side by side, with an intimacy that is- damning, should anyone see them.

"Why do you stay, Geralt?"

He's uncertain he meant to say anything at all. Perhaps it was whimsy that pulled those words forth, as he sits warm from the fire that had never brought comfort to these cold rooms before. Perhaps it is Geralt's company that warms him and not the fire, perhaps it's merely that he's cheered from the good company- perhaps that is why he asks.

Say you stay for me.

Say you stay because you cannot bear the thought of leaving me. I care not if it is a lie- if you must lie, tell me a comforting one.

He gestures, flippant and casual, and he knows the wine has softened him. "I know this child is, by law, and by destiny's hand, as much yours as they are mine, but I did not think Witcher's wished for children."

"It is a tradition for Witcher's to claim the Law of Surprise when asking for a reward. Children... are often the desired outcome."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"...You know many things, Duny, but not this?"

"One cannot know everything, Witcher, but I am flattered you think so highly of me."

The Witcher laughs, the sort that is startled out of you- an honest, sudden burst of mirth. It is a sound that brings Emhyr a soft sort of joy, the kind that emanates heat, the kind that makes its home in his chest.

He wants to hold that emotion close and never let go.

What he would do, what he would endure, if only to be able to feel that joy for the rest of his life-

"I do."

Geralt smiles, settling back against the cushions.

"Think highly of you, that is."

Emhyr looks at him in askance, measures the width of Geralt's smile, scans his cat eyes for dishonesty, and searches for anything, anything at all that will discourage him from the foolishness of what it is he wants to do. He finds nothing and cannot be disappointed with it.

He places his hand on Geralt's thigh, too high up, too intimate for it to be mistaken as anything other than what it is.

A proposition.

When Emhyr cups his face and kisses him, Geralt stiffens beneath him, all of sudden tense and still where he was once passionate and eager.

Emhyr has misstepped and he backtracks to apologise, uneasy in foreign territory. Geralt catches him by the wrist before he can fully retreat, pulls him close with a shuddering breath exhaled and Emhyr automatically feels himself run through the location of each and every weapon he has secreted away in his quarters.

The Witcher is not violent, does not press his advantage now that he has it, and has Emhyr braced against his chest. At this range, there is little he could do to defend himself, even if he had a dagger in hand. Emhyr knows that if the other man wanted to, he could snap his neck with little effort. He can feel it now, the power in the arm that holds him close.

But Geralt looks at him with something like startled pleasure- disbelief.

Geralt allows him to reposition them as he pleases, and allows him to touch and take as he pleases. As long as he keeps touching Geralt with care, with tenderness, his touches soft, affectionate, like those of a lover, the other man lies there and allows him anything. Emhyr kisses his brow and watches the Witcher melt beneath him, so used to cruelty that a dash of kindness is enough to undo him.

He pities Geralt. He is not used to pitying others, but that a single gentle touch could undo this man?

How cruel the world must have been to you, for you to see these acts of manipulation as kindness.

It will take years for Emhyr to remember these thoughts. It will take decades for Emhyr to realise he should have pitied them both.

Geralt must know that these touches are lies. Kind lies, tender lies, comforting lies-

But lies nonetheless.

[laurikarauchscat]

Distraction

---

Recreation of "an offering" by Frank Dicksee

[happyficwriterbird]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Relationship: Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fluff, Gift Fic

Language: English

Words count: 1250

Summary:

The sun, like sand in a clock, pours over the horizon line.

Emhyr would say that the last rays coming through from the other side of the world looked truly majestic and fabulous. Would say. But he only needs to turn his head a little to see something more majestic, beautiful and incredible.

Geralt finally, after an hour of long and unconscious attempts, settled down in the huge nest of the imperial bed, consisting of many pillows, large and small, and blankets.

This, var Emreis thinks, is the most fabulous. A wild and rebellious witcher of his own free will came to his bed and remains in it.

Special full version for @do-androids-dream-ao3acc

AO3 [ENG] | FicBook [RUS]

For just one evening

The morning was restless.

The afternoon was hot, long, boring and full of sharp looks.

The evening pleases them with a cool breeze, carrying the aroma of the imperial gardens. Ripe and juicy oranges, fragrant myrtles and incredibly sweet roses, which the Emperor seems to have loved to the same extent incredibly.

The sun, like sand in a clock, pours over the horizon line.

Emhyr would say that the last rays coming through from the other side of the world looked truly majestic and fabulous. Would say. But he only needs to turn his head a little to see something more majestic, beautiful and incredible.

Geralt finally, after an hour of long and unconscious attempts, settled down in the huge nest of the imperial bed, consisting of many pillows, large and small, and blankets.

This, var Emreis thinks, is the most fabulous. A wild and rebellious witcher of his own free will came to his bed and remains in it.

The glass of Est-Est sways steadily in his hand, gently touching the expensive rings. Emhyr chuckles, imagining how incredible it would be to tame the old wolf to hand-feed. The sun is just beginning to climb the firmament, its light falls in golden fibers on the imperial bedroom through the open windows, the honey-golden eyes of the witcher sleepily open after a few kisses on the shoulder, the cat's pupil focuses and expands with recognition and love, a taunt about soft-heartedness for old age flies from the lips, which are dear to heart, and then this fanged mouth takes the best grapes of the empire from the hands of the Emperor.

Geralt stirs, squints, turns over on his back and groans. This snatches Emhyr out of his fantasies. He raises his eyebrows in surprise, holding his breath.

"You're thinking too loud," Geralt mutters, his voice rough from sleep.

"I'm sorry, my Wolf, you're too beautiful for me not to think about you every free minute."

Geralt warily opens one eye and looks at Emhyr.

"Do you know how sweetly romantic you are? From whom, from whom, but I didn't expect it from you."

"But you don't mind."

The statement, not a question.

Smart one, Geralt must admit.

"So..." the witcher pulls, yawning, "are you going to sit there all night or are you going to join me? It's uncomfortable here without you..."

And a little later he adds with a mischievous smile:

"my Sun."

Emhyr chuckles softly. Right, his laughter is so similar to touching the velvet petals of a peony.

"As you wish."

"I wish you would go back to bed immediately and do that awful thing again."

Emhyr laughs again - louder and freer. And obeys.

He crawls under a thick blanket, a corner of which Geralt generously gave him.

"So," he whispers so close to the sensitive ear, "what awful thing were you talking about?"

Geralt moves closer to the cool body, pushing pillows and blankets around him in the right combination.

"You know what I'm talking about," he repeats, confused. And, it seems to Emhyr, Geralt is really grateful to his mutations that he can not blush; it's a pity, he could be so cute.

Emhyr's arms wrap around the thin body of the witcher, covered with scars, pulls him to himself; his lips barely touch the shell of Geralt's ear when he whispers: "I love you."

And kisses - gently, softly and silently, reverently.

Geralt purrs contentedly, smiling broadly and childishly silly. Even Cirilla, at the age of four, accepted kisses with more ordinariness.

Emhyr's hands move. They move with slow, theatrically slow movements from the shoulders and side to the ribs. Literally to the ribs, which once again reminds Emhyr of the accelerated metabolism of his witcher. In the morning he will make sure that Geralt eats more than usual. The nose touches the unprotected neck - pale, soft and beloved.

In response, Geralt turns over from his back to his side, pressing his face to Emhyr's collarbone, wrapping his thin arms around his back, stroking old scars and comfortingly kissing his neck and chest, where he can reach without much effort - the reaction developed by practice when Emhyr shudderes and stand without any movement, frozen, as soon as someone touched him or even mentioned the scars from hedgehog needles. Cursed youth is a difficult topic.

Here, in the warmth, with his cheek pressed against the chest of a loved one, Geralt hears the heartbeat and even breathing, and therefore his purring becomes a little louder and more contented. The hand in his hair is just a new reason in a number of old ones.

And Emhyr allows himself to grin. Tell anyone that a harsh and generally unattractive - in someone's opinion, even ugly - mutant sorcerer, whose job is to live emotionlessly and kill monsters, loves to bask in the imperial bed, just adores to be hugged by friends and family, and what is possible to say about kisses - especially unexpected those ones, which are appear in this busy or strange moment: in the top of the head or in the nose; Geralt is very embarrassed if he is kissed on the hand, like a lady of the highest aristocracy.

And every time Emhyr sees that Geralt's first impulse is to grab the sword, if the touches are unexpected, his heart bleeds, because every time it reminds him that his dear and delightful witcher has experienced too much pain and suffering on his Path - undeserved, unjustified and disgusting. It's so strange to think that all these scars have never been kissed by a person who really loves Geralt - just like that, from the bottom of his heart, with the deepest respect and adoration, without tricks and deception, manipulation and expectations.

Therefore, he seeks to heal his witcher's wounds of past mistakes and stones from a back, kisses as if these are their last moments together, hugs as if he has never done it, talks as if he can scare off with one wrong word - and here, alas, not "as if": he can really scare Geralt off with a not enough gentle suggestion and with a wrong word.

And Emhyr is trying. He is really trying. He is sincerely grateful to Geralt that he returned his daughter to him and helped to establish at least some close relations with her, he is sincerely grateful to Cirilla, ready to kiss on both cheeks that she pointed out how simple care is required for Geralt to become attached to him. It happened by accident and quickly, like a fall, only not angry waves or sharp teeth of fjords were waiting below, but an uncertain hand in his hand and a sound sleep on the another man's shoulder.

And now he is trying. He forgets about the unfinished bottle of wine, about the treats left on the balcony and the problems of the Empire. For just one evening, he forgets about everything except the fragile heart in his hands.

He adjusts the blanket on his back covered with scars and decades of trials, thoughtfully tangles their legs, slightly changes his grip on the thin as a sword blade body, listens to a satisfied breath and continued purring, gently kisses the top of the head and settles down on the pillows with a happy and tired smile.

"Huh. You're getting old, Your Majesty."

"Huh. It seems to you, Witcher."

Silence spreads between them, like a Sangreal in a glass - gently, exquisitely and pleasantly.

"Sleep well, my White Wolf."

"Sleep long, my Sunny Emperor."

[witcherficwriters]

Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Duny/Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Emhyr var Emreis Additional Tags: Mentioned Eskel (The Witcher), Prostitution, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Deserves Nice Things, Gay Sex, Soft Emhyr var Emreis, Mentioned Jaskier | Dandelion, Gentle Sex, romantic longing, Mentioned Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Mentioned Lambert (The Witcher) Summary: This is a gift for andreanna / andreannaness (Too many similar user names on here for me to confidently pick one for the gift area)

Prompt I was inspired by is; Geralt x Emhyr - Geralt pays an Ehmyr impersonator for sex and gets more than he bargained for

I hope you and everyone else enjoy cx

[dsudis]

Who wants some sleepy domestic Emhyr/Geralt?

Got a kind of bewildering ask yesterday that I won't bother answering directly as it didn't seem particularly relevant to me, but it did remind me how much I enjoyed writing Witcher fic, and that I still have some bits of Emhyr/Geralt(/Eskel) fic I was working on that I've never shared, and I am in a sharing mood today!

This is from what would have been Urbe Aureā #5, in which Emhyr begins his courtship of Eskel by offering him any witcher's favorite thing: a job in Toussaint. Geralt, naturally, goes along with him, and then they come home to the palace in Nilfgaard, mostly unscathed...

Geralt knew just what to do this time, returning to Nilfgaard in the middle of the night. He parted from Eskel with a mumbled agreement to meet again in the morning, shed his weapons and everything else he could without scandalizing any servants he met, and went directly to Emhyr's rooms. 

He reached up to run a hand over the stubble that was all the hair left on the lower part of his head now. It was two days' growth, because that was how long it had taken him, Eskel, and occasionally Lambert, to deal with every other little problem someone had brought to their attention after the wraiths were dealt with.  

He hadn't been dawdling this time--not like the days he'd spent in Tretogor chasing down stray bandits and necrophages. He just... couldn't go off and leave the place knowing there was a problem with giant centipedes popping out of somebody's vineyard, and a nasty ghost haunting somebody else's well--and then he'd had to make a few patrols to check for signs of any vampires who'd started making nuisances of themselves since he left. Those always turned up again when there had been a lot of them in one place, like seeds germinated by a forest fire. 

But now, at last, he was done and back again. He and Eskel had availed themselves of the baths B.-B. had had waiting for them after they got back from sorting out those fleders, and then they'd agreed with barely a word to head back through the portal. They'd left Lambert asleep under his workbench, knowing well that he'd be happier to bitch about them leaving without a goodbye than to actually suffer through any parting scene. 

And, after all, he knew exactly where to find them if he wanted them. 

Geralt let himself into Emhyr's rooms and hesitated, listening out for a moment, but Emhyr didn't rush out to meet him as he had that time before. Maybe he'd slept a little easier, knowing Geralt had left on Emhyr's own errand, and with backup to boot. Maybe he just didn't expect Geralt to have returned after only a few days. 

Either way, there was no point lingering in the sitting room. Geralt let himself into the bedchamber, and his heart did something painful and fond at the sight of Emhyr sleeping. He tried to ignore it, willed it away, even as he was walking over. He was at the side of the bed when he remembered: he loved Emhyr, and he knew that, and Eskel knew that, and Emhyr probably knew that, and as yet that hadn't brought about any more than the usual amount of destruction.  

He could just... feel it. He could look at Emhyr sleeping, with his head on one pillow and another tucked under his arm like he'd lost the knack of sleeping without another body to lean against, and feel like he belonged there. In Emhyr's bed, in his arms, in his life, because that was a role he could fill, a job he could do. He could be the Emperor's Witcher and like it.  

Emhyr didn't move--didn't give himself away, if the lurker in his bedchamber had been anyone less astute--but Geralt knew the moment he woke.  

"Not an assassin," Geralt said softly. "Just--" 

Emhyr pushed himself up to sit, a wash of delight turning his craggy features almost young, in the little light that reached Geralt's eyes. Mindful that Emhyr could see even less than he could in this dark, he stepped forward, holding his hands out, saving Emhyr the trouble of disentangling himself from the bedcovers.  

"My dear witcher," Emhyr murmured, catching his hands and tugging him closer still, then catching his mouth in a kiss. "Where is your partner?" 

Geralt laughed a little against Emhyr's mouth. "Not so quickly won over as that, dear majesty. But he did come back with me, safe and sound. He's in his own room, probably already asleep." 

"Excellent," Emhyr said, and he genuinely did sound pleased. And he'd asked about Eskel first thing, when he might have ignored the whole matter of him until morning, and that, too, made Geralt's heart squeeze.  

"And yourself?" Emhyr went on, his hands releasing Geralt's and sliding up his arms. "You smell clean enough, but you know I am not as keen as one of you. Any injuries? Any trouble?" 

"Not as such," Geralt said, climbing onto the edge of the bed so Emhyr could reach more of him, and taking Emhyr's hand to guide it up to the base of his skull. "Lost some hair." 

"A pity," Emhyr murmured, running warm fingers over the shorn part of Geralt's scalp before he settled his hand on the nape of Geralt's neck and tugged him into a deeper kiss.  

Geralt leaned into Emhyr's firm grip, his whole body easing, muscles relaxing that had been faintly tensed for days on end. That human-strong hold on him and Emhyr's mint-clean mouth coaxing his open meant that he was home safe, done with the job, and it was finally time to let his guard down. He let himself sway into Emhyr, trusting his weight to the solid warmth of Emhyr's body. 

Emhyr let out a little grunt, though his body betrayed no great evidence of straining under the pressure. He closed his other arm around Geralt and eased them both down, not bothering to sort out the covers or get Geralt naked--as though all that mattered was both of them here, at their ease. As though he needed nothing more than that. 

Geralt sighed, nuzzling at Emhyr's chest, and went out like a blown candle.