#au where geralt & regis just uhhh lock dettlaff up inside the cage in tesham mutna for a time out

[riviae]

95. "There's no going back if we do this."

witcher drabble prompts: geralt/regis set during b&w 

“Geralt,” Regis starts, pacing back and forth inside the crypt, fingers clutched tightly to his satchel. “There’s no going back if we do this.” 

“So be it.” the witcher replies, rising from his seat on the dusty cot. “I’m not letting you martyr yourself–never again.” 

Regis stills, a pained look flitting across his face, dark eyes heavy with grief. “I’m not fully healed. When Dettlaff realizes we’ve tricked him, he will not respond kindly. I do not wish to put you in any more danger.” 

“I’m not just going to sit back and let Dettlaff raze the entire city to the ground. And you’re not going to sacrifice yourself either, Regis. I won’t let you.” 

The vampire bows his head and grimaces, lips pulled into a thin line. When he finally looks up, gaze softening at the startling open expression on Geralt’s face, Regis can only shake his head. “Why? Why risk your life for me–an otherwise immortal being? A monster who, in truth, deserves little of the kindness you’ve extended to me.” 

“You’re really gonna make me spell it out, huh?” Geralt says, lips briefly curling upwards. “For an age-old being, you sure can be horribly oblivious.” 

“P-pardon?” 

“I love you.”

“You…” Regis fumbles for the right words, mind racing. For a brief, horrifying moment he wonders if it is all a cruel dream–a longing he had tried so desperately to snuff out to no avail. The thought itself disrupts his focus, whatever words of affection he wished to voice dying on his tongue.  “…love me?” he instead finishes lamely, crossing the distance to Geralt in a storm of grey smoke. 

“Yeah. Now’s the part where you either tell me the feeling’s mutual or to go fuck off.” the witcher rubs the back of his neck, looking away. It’s the closest to bashful Regis has ever seen the man act, stirring some sense of urgency back into his mind. 

When Regis reaches for Geralt, cupping the nape of his neck in a strong but gentle hold, the vampire remains corporeal despite the urge to surround the witcher, to feel every molecule against his own. He settles on a kiss, surging forward so quickly that if it weren’t for his hold on Geralt, he would have likely fallen back. 

Geralt melts into the kiss, completely at ease, a pleased rumble reverberating from his chest. When he pulls away to breathe, he can only grin, fingers tugging the vampire back to him. 

“As you’d say, the feeling’s mutual.” Regis laughs, unabashedly tipping his head back as pure mirth warms his blood. “And please, never fuck off. I don’t think my heart could take it.” 

Geralt snorts. “Alright. That I can do.”