#ok so i had to reupload bc it wasn't working

[riviia]

Title: Dexterity (Re-upload) Pairing: Geralt x Yennefer Rating: Slight M Summary: Yennefer is taken back by Geralt’s former lover. Okay, so I’m sorry it’s not as long as I wanted it to be, and I’m sorry I just suck all around, but I hope if anybody reads this that they enjoy it. I also didn’t make it as smutty as I thought because I got too deep in and it didn’t feel right. Thanks for reading ily

“And that would be twenty to four.”

Geralt of Rivia grunted in despair, throwing his pile of gwent cards down onto the wooden table as a violet eyed sorceress let a light grin touch her smooth lips. The low chords of a mandolin set itself in the background of the tavern they occupied, and Geralt drowned his annoyance of loss with the sound of the music.

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser, Geralt.” Yennefer’s perfect accent tinted itself with a small chuckle. Just low enough that only Geralt could hear, and genuine enough that Geralt could tell she meant the laugh. Something that was a rarity in the sorceress.

“Are you done then?” She asked, with a raise of an eyebrow, gathering the cards and shuffling the deck neatly.

Geralt grunted. “Do you think I need my ego deflated more?”

She gave him a smile, but muttered ‘sore loser’ under her breath. She put the cards down in a shuffled pile on the table and took a small sip of her wine.

“You’ve been practicing?” He asked her, taking a large gulp of his own brown ale.

“Why Geralt! We were apart for far too long. I needed something to occupy my mind.”

“So, in technical terms, you have only mastered the art of gwent because you missed me?”

She blinked, taking another swig, shaking her head so her dark ravened curls fell upon her shoulders chaotically. “Your ego is rather big.”

Geralt laughed, but his mind wavered slowly to the sadness her had truly felt without her jests. He had missed the bickering, missed the fighting. Especially missed how sweet and passionate making up would be.

“Geralt, do control your thoughts. For heaven’s sake.”

He glared at her. “I hate it when you read my mind.”

“No, you don’t,” she said with a wink, her long lashes almost hitting the top of her cheek. “You merely hate the fact that your spontaneous romantic gestures are often obstructed.”

He shook his head, letting his lips curl upwards. It wasn’t a preposterous idea, to be spontaneous, but with Yen at his side, it was hardly a relative idea.

“Now, where were we?” She asked, shuffling the deck of cards again. “Before you lost your wits, I believe you were about to tell me something?”

His previous statement, a boast about his own gwent abilities died almost instantly. “Only how beautiful you look tonight.”

She snorted, taking another sip of her expensive drink, her eyes lifting not to his, but directly behind him. She sighed. “Well, clearly, I am not the only good looking one around here.” There was a nod of her head towards the table behind Geralt. He looked around, meeting the green eyes of a waitress. Geralt rubbed his eyes and groaned.

“I assume there is a reason for her making moon eyes at you,” Yen began again, staring the young woman down. She looked to be about 25 years of age, with red curling hair down to her waist. “Other than your complete lack of charm and good looks.”

“You flatter me.”

She laughed but choked on her drink a few moments later. “Well, looks as if she’s coming to say hello.” Her dark eyebrow rose up and her nails tapped alongside the table. Geralt tensed up, his Witcher senses hearing her footsteps as they made their way closer to the table. He didn't dare look around, but Yennefer watched carefully as the woman stopped on Geralt’s left.

“Well, well. Geralt of Rivia.” Her accent crisp and harsh. Completely opposite to Yennefer’s cool and calm.

Geralt looked towards the red-headed girl, the quickly glanced at Yennefer, who watched him with an intrigue in her purple eyes, hiding behind her wine glass.

Geralt smiled at the girl and said, “Hello Brienne.”

Yennefer almost choked again, this time on nothing but air. “Brienne?” She shot Geralt a look while keeping her face passive. But he could read her eyes so well. “Seems I may have vastly underestimated your relationship.”

“Yen…” Geralt warned, mentally begging the sorceress to keep her spite internal.

Brienne however ignored the exchanged, looking only at the white wolf. “It’s been a while Geralt. A year or so?”

Geralt nodded, clearing his throat and taking a swig of ale, clarifying her statement.  “Uh yes. I believe. In Vizima.”

The girl, Brienne, had a twinkle in her eye, a grin mismatching itself on her lips. Yennefer didn’t like it. Not at all. “I’m positive I’ll never f’rget those nights.”

Yennefer smiled in Geralt’s direction, a snake smile filled with venom. “Oh really?” Yen said, turning to the girl. “Do tell.”

A small flush of height rose on the girl’s pale cheeks and she looked at Geralt like he was dangling meat in front of a hungry bear. There was no doubt where the girls mind had gone, back to a wild night of love making underneath a raggedy broken house in Vizima Yen had no doubt.

“Geralt helped me brother out with a monster that needed killing. The poor Witcher had nowhere to stay afterwards. We o’fered him our home.”

Yen’s eyes narrowed. “Ah yes. The poor Witcher.” Yen paused, looking at how uncomfortable Geralt was, then began again. “What happened after that?”

The girl’s eyes moved to Geralt’s, ranging her vision down his neck and stopping on his covered muscles, a slow smile appearing on her face with ease. “Well the Witcher showed me a few things.”

“I bet he did.”

“Yen,” Geralt warned again.

But without the blandest regard for Yennefer, Brienne reached over to Geralt and trailed her hand under his chin. His white beard was in his fingers, brushing it with a longing that irritated Yennefer to no end. Before Geralt could react to Brienne’s hand, Yen snapped her fingers and a blue orb of heat appeared in front of the girl’s face. She yelped with the almost contact, stepping back to avoid the heat of magic.

The tavern had gone silent now, watching the sorceress control the orb with just a flick of her fingers. Brienne stared in horror, as if just noticing Geralt’s companion for the first time. Her green eyes bright with horror.  

“I know ye! Yer that sorceress! The one from the ballads!”

“Indeed,” Yen replied equably.

Brienne stayed straight up, putting on a brave face while Yen remained in her seated position, cocking her head to the right. “Ye witch! Yer nothing but ‘orrible to the Witcher. Everybody knows so.”

Geralt’s mouth twisted in anger and he opened his mouth to speak, but Yennefer beat him too it. She flicked her fingers, and the orb disappeared from view.

“I’m not in the business of fighting little girls who pine for the Witchers attention. Be gone.”

“Ye can’t cast me out. This heres my job.”

Yennefer strummed her fingers. “And you are getting on my last nerve, dear. I lightly suggest you take your leave. Now.”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak again, but one look from Yen and he closed his mouth. She would handle it, clearly.

“Ye don’t frighten me, she-devil.” Brienne spat on the floor beside Yen, who took a step back in disgust. “At least I don’t have to bewitch the Witcher to warm my bed.”

That got Yen. In an instant, she was on her feet, her fingers snapping to hold a purple fire ball that rested in the palm of her hand. But Geralt was quicker than she had anticipated. Before she could throw the ball towards the barmaid, he rushed forward, picking Yennefer up by her legs and tossing the angry sorceress over his shoulder. She all but hissed at Brienne as Geralt swiftly carried her out of the tavern, careful not to alert any of the guards who needed but a reason to arrest either one of them.

“Let me down, you big oaf!” she cried as they walked down the path back to their inn. Her head hung down near his back and his hand grasped onto the back of her legs. She looked, and felt, like a rag-doll.

“Not until you calm down.”

She let out a grunt and relaxed her body into his form, allowing him to bring her up the creaky stairs and towards their second floor hostile. Once in the room, she was dropped to her feet roughly. She brushed a hand through her rumpled black hair and fixed her creased outfit, smoothing it out with her hand, clearing her throat as Geralt crossed his arms and leaned on the closed door.

“What?” She said, with an innocent candor.

Geralt blinked, his yellow eyes disappearing beneath his lids. “What? You almost just blew an innocent girl’s head off Yen.”

Yen crossed her own arms. “She was hardly innocent.” Geralt’s look made her roll her eyes. “Well, I might have overreacted. You can hardly blame me.”

“Why’s that?”

She shot him her own violent glare, her lips snarling. “Does it seem to you, sweet Geralt, that we have ostensibly met quite a lot of your conquests throughout our journeys?”

It was true, and Geralt knew that. During the time he had left Yen, and his memories along with her, there were quite a lot of female companions in which he sought comfort. Though, so did she.

“You weren’t exactly innocent between our parting either Yen.”

“Yes, and I have been blatantly honest about that. The difference is, it seems as if every tavern, every inn, every bloody damn lake is riddled with one of your former lovers. We have never had that problem with me, so you have never had to face it.”

Geralt stood straight up, taking a few steps towards his her. “Face what exactly?” His ashen eyebrow rose up, leaning in to her with curiosity.

She tightened her jaw and kept his words clamped inside. He took another step towards her, a small Witcher grin on the mounds of his face. Wicked, sensual, almost giddy.

“Could it be that Yennefer of Vengerberg, the great sorceress from the Kingdom of Aedirn, is…jealous?”

Yennefer’s face compressed, her jaw tightened and her fists clenched. “Jealous of your inadequate, wenches and whores?”

Geralt wiggled his eyebrows in a quip, taking another step closer. “Jealous Yen. I haven’t had the pleasure in quite some time. Welcome back.”

“Oh, you are insufferable.”

There was a pause and quick change in tone. “And you are very beautiful.”

The rapid alteration of his words caused the sorceress to glance up, into his cat-like eyes. The trace of laughter was gone from his face, leaving only a set of serious looking iris’ that built on sincerity.

“You think to coin me with compliments and bedroom eyes?” She said, though her tone was lighter now, as her heart was full. She could see he meant it, for whatever reason, beyond her.

“Never. I only want to remind you that nobody’s beauty compares to you. Nobodies brain either. Or heart. Or-”

“Please stop. Before this becomes one of Dandelion’s ballads.”

He chuckled, seeing that he had lessened her mood, and took the last two steps forward to meet her in the middle of their dusty old room. She tilted her head up, to meet his eyes. His smile was so pure and she hated that it was not present on every occasion.

Geralt watched her tongue as she licked her lips, and without warning, he placed his hands on either side of her waist and lifted her up, tossing her on the bed behind them. She couldn’t help but let out a squeal of surprise, the bed of pillows catching her fall.  

He loomed over her, hooking his fingers into the bottom of his worn out white tunic and lifted it above his head. It landed on the floor and he turned to see an almost smiling Yen. Though his body was covered with malicious scars and burns, she never ceased to stare at him like he had no such markings.

“They…” Geralt began, standing on the bed, causing a dent in the mattress on either side of her, “do not have any significant influence on my life currently. Besides being a simple part of my past. You, Yennefer, are my past, present and future.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Did someone replace your ale with a love potion, Geralt? This shitty two crown romance un-becomes you.”

He laughed at her cynicism, while getting to his knees before her. She sat up on the bed, her fingers undoing the black buckles around her waist. She tossed it towards Geralt’s shirt and carefully moved her fingers to her off shoulder green feathered blouse, moving the straps till the fell away beneath her breasts.

Geralt swallowed as he watched her fingers trail softly between the mounds of her breasts, her eyes twinkling with lustful mischief. He was in trouble, that was certain.

Instead of saying another word, he grabbed her hips and pulled them forward, so she was forced to lay back down. Her hair sprawled on the pillow like a blackened halo, forming her face against the dim candled night.

She was wearing her signature outfit and with the shirt now out of the way, Geralt had only to focus on her bottom half. Her lace thigh highs hung tight against her skin, sheltered by the bottom of her black skirt. His hand was unstoppable, as he started at the base of her ankle, slowing moving the tips of his fingertips up, over her thigh and beneath the fabric of her skirt.

She shuddered underneath the playful notes of his fingers, but did not succumb enough to shut her eyes. Her vulnerability came at a price.

“You are overthinking,” Geralt claimed, keeping his hand just hovering above the place he wanted to touch. “About Brienne?”

“You’d do well not to mention her again,” Yennefer snapped.

“No, it’s not about Brienne,” The white wolf muttered, looking into the eyes of the women he loved. “Something is bothering you about what she said, isn’t it?”

“Oh for god’s sake, Geralt, will you just shut up and fuck me?”

His eyebrow raised up, his mouth turning into a grim frown. He wanted to talk about it, but she wanted to keep her words bottled up. He shook his head with disappointment, but when he rose his head up, he watched her with desire in his eyes. She could have it her way then. For now.

He moved forward on his knees, his hands working on her left boot while his mouth started a small trail on the inside of her thigh. She didn’t gasp, but her breath hitched violently at the feel of Geralt’s lips. He wrestled with both of the boots and eventually tossed them onto their building pile of belongings.

Next, he used his teeth to capture the top of the lace thigh highs, pulling them down without hands, followed by the next one. They made their home on the boots. Goosebumps filled her bare legs. Their eyes captured together and Geralt could see, from the bite of her lip, from the flush in her cheeks, what he was doing to her.

He moved his head back down again, this time from her ankle, leaving a tiny trail of licks and kisses up her bare leg. His fingers kept the other leg company and his head eventually made its way under her skirt. Her lack of undergarments was not unusual. It was one of Geralt’s favourite things about her. Spontaneity.

Geralt leaned his head forward towards the core of her, feeling her body tense up right before he put his mouth to her sensitivity. This time, she did gasp out, and her hands flew into Geralt’s white hair, pulling roughly.

“Ow Yen,” He muttered. His voice muffled by the skirt, and by her thighs, which had gathered around his waist, tightly holding him in place.

“Well you can hardly fault me. You have a devilishly proficient mouth.”

A little smug, he moved his mouth back to her. She tasted sweet, her scene of lilac and gooseberries almost overwhelming. His tongue swept out and he gave her a long strenuous lick, slow and torturous and she cried out, her knees buckling tighter.

His hands held the top of her thighs as he continued his work, only moving his fingers inside of her to manage an extra stream of pleasure. Her wetness was not the only validation. In the heave of her stomach and the trembling of her body, he knew she was close.

And he pulled away.

“WHA-” Yen’s eyes shot open, her legs clamped down to trap Geralt’s body so he couldn’t pull away. She stared down, her eyes sharp and unamused. “Are you looking to anger me further?”

He gave her a devious smile and moved his body forward slightly, so that he could match her body with his. Her legs slid down to the back of his calves but did not lessen their grasp on him.

“If you’d rather not finish what you’ve started, I can do it myself.”

“I want to talk. I had to gain your attention somehow.”

With their bodies together, they were now face to face. Though unamused, Yennefer did not seem as angry as she claimed. Perhaps disappointed in her lack of orgasm, but not mad. She had known he wasn’t going to let this go. It’s the way he was.

But not the way she was.

“Geralt,” She moved her left hand to his bare chest, following the lines of his scars so softly, so slowly, and she smiled as his breath become heavy. She felt him beneath his trousers, harder than he wanted her to know. He hissed as she cupped him through the fabric, his forehead falling onto her chest. She smiled in triumph.

“Yen,” he growled with frustration, into her skin, as she moved her hand with more determination. “Stop trying to distract me.”

“I’m doing no such thing. Simply taking matters into my own hands. So to speak.”

She took control again, rotating their positions so she was on top of him. Her legs lay on either side of his lap. Her hair was disheveled from the pillows and Geralt reached up to brush it out of her face.

“You’re relentless,” he whispered.

“So I have been told.”

She removed the last piece of her clothing, shedding her shirt and skirt without moving from her position on him. She sat naked upon him, glorious and striking she was.

“Take off your trousers,” she whispered to him, lifting her hips so he would have no issues removing them. But he didn’t move. She sighed and fiddled with the tightened buckle, removing it swiftly and throwing it away from them.

She moved to bend down towards his chest, she knew the mutilations on his skin by heart but she took time to memorize them again. With her fingers, her mouth. He shivered under her embrace and when she came forward to touch their lips, he whispered before she could press her lips to his.

“She’s wrong you know.”

Yennefer stalled her movements, his breath brushing against her cheek as his words sunk in. She knew what he meant, and she knew he was erroneous.

“Her and everybody else?” She questioned.

“Does that matter Yen? You once told me the opinions of others were inconsequential unless it was of those you love,” He paused, then said, “You and Ciri are the most important things to me.”

“It board well not to mention Ciri when we are in such a compromising position.”

Geralt groaned, with the complete opposite of pleasure. The mention of Ciri while they were in such a compromising position was unnerving.

But Yennefer continued on. “Why are you pressing this, Geralt?”

He reached up and brushed her cheek again, her pink cheeks and violent purple eyes made her colorful and full of life, though he doubted she felt that in her soul. “Because it’s unbearably irritating that people assume the worst of our relationship. Lambert, Eskel, god knows they’ve been doing it for years. It’s only a matter of time before you start to believe it.”

“You are mistaking me for someone who’d seek council in Lambert and Eskel,” she scoffed. “I’d like to think my shrill heart is beyond even that.”

“Regardless, I need you to understand something.”

She cocked her head to the side, her hair wrapping around her neck and falling down to create a waterfall of black curls. The pendent on her neck shone when it hit the light, and sung with a silent protection. She never took it off, even during intimate moments such as this. He reached forward and brushed the necklace with his fingers lightly, looking up to meet her gaze.

“I am by your side because I want to be.”

Such a simple sentence, but so powerful beyond any means. Her eyes widened and she shifted her gaze to the floor, as if modesty was now predominant. When she looked back up, she noted the sincerity written on his face, through his scar, out of his lips and eyes and right into his soul.  

Instead of replying, because she didn’t know how, she closed the small gap between them, letting her lips mold with the familiarity of his. Soft, sweet, passionate, raw. The deeper it went, the deeper they fell. Much like after the Djinn, a different kiss for a different occasion.

He moved his head and began kissing the sensitive parts of her neck, hearing her moan with excitement caused his movements to become more frantic. In a rush, he shimmied the top of his trousers down, just enough to release himself. Yennefer took the cue and opened her legs, and slowly, painfully so, she let him fill her.

The contact was a rush of adrenaline. She placed her hand on his bicep to steady herself. His eyes closed and his head fell back, clutching her naked waist. With a roll of her hips, she began to create friction between them, sliding up and down while keeping her hands on him. He helped her through, letting her ride him fervently while meeting with her hips, thrusting up while she came down. His mouth moved to her breasts, taking a sensitive nipple between the teeth.

“Freya above,” Yen cursed with pleasure, her hips keeping pace, faster, faster, faster. She could feel Geralt throbbing inside, his quivering body beneath her. His hands on her milky thighs, leaving red marks as he clawed at her skin. It was animalistic, it was freeing. She was commanding and he loved to submit, just to watch her release.

The feeling always started in the ball of her stomach, a fluttering throb that grew and grew and grew until the fluttering became an explosion. When he was ready, so was she. She rode him until he cried out, spilling into her while grasping at her body. She felt herself let go and was shown a release unknown to man. A cry from her lips and her body dipped forward, letting Geralt’s arm’s trap her to his chest. They finished in each other’s embrace, and stayed unmoving. Eventually, Geralt’s rumbling breath returned to a normal speed and he lifted his head up to kiss the top of her raven colored hair.

“That never gets old. Not with you.”