Young Wolves, part 8! on AO3, here! again, a huge thanks to @asparrowsfall for the beta, a

Young Wolves, part 8! on AO3, here! again, a huge thanks to @asparrowsfall for the beta, and to you for reading! I’ve been excited to show off this chapter for a long time now so I’m glad it’s out now :’)fic and warnings under the cut!PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M and contains non-explicit sexual content additional warnings: aforementioned sexual content, the usual amount of feelings, very vague descriptions of injuryLater on, those seemingly endless days of summer at Kaer Morhen would seem like a daydream, but for the moment Eskel is content to spend his time lazily, soaking in the last warm rays of the sun, and the light of the shortening days. The Kaedweni mountains never could hold onto summer for long, and even now autumn is fast approaching. With it would come the slow trickle of witchers returning to the keep for winter, and the certainty that come spring, he and Geralt would have to set off on their own Path.They are full-fledged witchers now, at twenty summers old, with at least as many hunts under their belts as they have years. Witchers in training keep the surrounding area, at least two days’ hike in every direction, meticulously clean of monsters, as they start venturing out on supervised hunts with their mentors soon after the Trial of the Medallion. Geralt and Eskel have never been sent on a hunt together, however, and the reasons for it escape neither of them. The deliberate separation only serves to cause further resentment for their instructors in Geralt, and anxiety in both of them. Once, when Geralt came home from a hunt with a broken arm, Eskel kissed him so hard he split his lip.Geralt emerges from the water with a splash, spraying crystalline droplets everywhere. Much of their summer has been spent down at the lake, swimming and basking in the sun, taking advantage of their reduced duties at the keep. Eskel has been mostly given tasks in supervising and assisting with the training of novices, working closely with Vesemir, while Geralt is being sent on hunts more often, both of them being groomed for their future position within the School. The journeymen witchers leaving for the Path for the first time go through especially hard training during their last winter, so the instructors go easy on them the preceding summer, giving them easier tasks and letting them enjoy peace and freedom for the last time.Eskel and Geralt have certainly enjoyed their peace and freedom. And each other. Geralt shakes his wet hair, dog-like, and sprays Eskel in the process. Not that he minds. Geralt is beautiful, even dripping wet, the last rays of the sun lighting his wet skin a sparkling gold, and the muscles in his arms bulging as he lifts himself onto the bank. Geralt is surprisingly lithe, for a witcher, and knowing the kind of strength hiding in that wiry frame twists something hot and sharp, low in Eskel’s stomach.Geralt leans over him, bracing one hand next to his head, the other on his chest. Eskel’s heart beats a little stronger, straining to reach Geralt through his skin. He instinctively raises his hand, running feather-light fingers from Geralt’s hip up his side. He came home from his last hunt with a new scar on his hip, from a nekker’s claw. It had healed in a matter of days, with a dose of Swallow, now that they were finally allowed witcher potions, and Eskel has run his fingers, tongue and teeth over it countless times. Geralt leans down to kiss him, and leans his weight more firmly on the hand on Eskel’s chest, and the pressure is both suffocating and grounding at the same time. The sun finally, grudgingly, slips behind the mountain tops, and Geralt breaks the kiss. Eskel cannot distinguish the weight of Geralt’s hand, pressing against his sternum, crushing, suffocating, overwhelming, from the feeling he gets just from looking at him, with the fading light behind him.Geralt flops down onto the grassy bank next to Eskel, and heaves a sigh. Eskel’s hand still lingers on his ribs. Even a kiss is enough to get a fire burning inside him these days, and he knows they’re unlike to be disturbed at the lake — Mirov learned the hard way that they should be given their privacy, and quickly made sure their peers did as well.The last of the remaining warmth is going to escape soon, so Eskel gathers up their clothes, preparing to return to the keep. He pulls his own shirt over his head, and tosses Geralt’s in his direction. When he’s done putting his trousers on, he turns back to Geralt, who has left his own shirt unfastened down to his navel and forgone the breastband entirely. A drop of water runs down his sternum, and Eskel tracks its path with his eyes. When he lifts his gaze, Geralt smirks.He offers Geralt a hand, but instead of pulling himself up, he yanks Eskel down, and they wrestle in the grass for a few moments, roughing around like they have for all their lives. Geralt ends up stretched out on top of Eskel, toying with the chain of his medallion. The medallion trembles, very slightly, under Geralt’s touch. “Not yet,” he says. “It’s… too real, back at the keep.”Eskel knows what he means. The atmosphere at Kaer Morhen is suffocating, the reality of their future on the Path hanging heavy over everything. It is a strange position to be in, to be both excited and anxious over the future ahead, a future that they’ve been groomed for their entire lives.“I’m happy to go, but—”“I know you are. I know.”“It’s just pissing me off! I know they’re gonna try to send us off separately, and— I just don’t want to think about it.” Geralt drops his head down and buries his face against Eskel’s chest, and breathes in deep. “I don’t want to go back yet, and see them knowing and disapproving. I shouldn’t give a shit, but—”“I know,” Eskel says, and he does know. There are those, in the keep who see a relationship like theirs as too close, too dependent. Some of their elders have expressed concern about their closeness for years, and though they haven’t been confronted about it directly, Eskel knows it’s only Vesemir’s influence keeping the comments at bay. Relationships between witchers are in no way unheard of, or even frowned upon for the most part — but having weaknesses is. There are those who see sentiment, attachment, as a liability, and between witchers it becomes a blind spot, both parties a weakness to the other, and one that will be exploited eventually.They lie there, in the grass in silence for a long while. The wind is picking up and whisking away the last remaining warmth from his skin, and Eskel shivers a little. They end up on the subject of the Path, and the fears and hopes and frustrations linked with it, more and more frequently as winter draws nearer. Eskel knows Geralt is mulling over the same things as he is. How will they make life on the Path work together? How will they find enough work for two? How little they both know, ultimately, of the world outside the witcher School. But he knows it is all just a matter of logistics, and they will find a way to make it work.Eskel raises his head, and presses a small kiss on the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “You know I won’t let you go alone, right?”Geralt smiles. “I know. I just don’t understand why they can’t let us leave together. It’s safer with two, and we can take down bigger problems, especially being fresh on the Path,” he mutters, unconsciously yanking harder on Eskel’s medallion chain still caught between his fingers as he gets more frustrated. “I know we can’t stick together always, if we can’t find work for two, but does that mean we shouldn’t try? Ugh.”Eskel flops back down, and pats Geralt’s hair. They both know this question won’t be solved for a while, and lingering on it will just leave them both anxious and running around in circles. So they lie in the grass, sharing body heat until the cold mountain night drives them back inside the keep.Later, in their room, when Eskel lifts his head and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, he says: “They’ll be sending me first, and you last.”After a few beats, Geralt lifts his head with considerable effort, and looks at him. “What?”“They’re gonna trust that I’m too dutiful to wait that long for you. But I’ll wait. I’ll find a job near Alesby and I’ll wait for you there.”Geralt looks confused for a few moments, then groans, and covers his sweaty face with his hands. “How can you be thinking about logistics, now?”Eskel huffs a laugh and climbs up Geralt’s body, and kisses him. It tastes salty, and Geralt leans into it with all he has, grasping at Eskel’s neck. He bites his lip in retaliation, with those sharp canine teeth of his, and Eskel grunts. Geralt’s whole body is twitching with aftershocks, and Eskel relishes in the feeling of knowing he was the one who made it happen. He dips his head to mouth at Geralt’s neck, and brings his other hand to rest on the dip in Geralt’s collarbones, right over where his medallion rests. It trembles, picking up on the magic within him, reacting much stronger than his own medallion in response to Geralt’s touch. Geralt lets out a noise somewhere between a growl and a whine, and spins them around.Geralt straddling him, glaring down at him defiantly, with his face sweaty, and silver-white hair sticking up in a messy, tangled halo around his head, is a sight that will leave Eskel breathless every time, for the rest of his life. His heart twists, both with fierce affection, and fear, knowing that he will not be able to hold on to this, to Geralt, forever. -- source link

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