Young Wolves, part 5! on AO3 here!i’ve been waiting to get to this one for quite some time, so

Young Wolves, part 5! on AO3 here!i’ve been waiting to get to this one for quite some time, so here it is! again, @asparrowsfall is working her beta magic <3fic and additional warnings under the cut, as usualCW: very mild description of dysphoriaSweat and sparks fly, when Geralt swings his sword in a high arc, and it collides with the Quen shield Eskel throws into place at the last second. Eskel raises his head and opens his mouth, about correct Geralt on his incorrect technique before Vesemir gets the chance to, no doubt, but Geralt turns and swings again, taking advantage of Eskel’s distraction to get him off balance. He strikes twice more, Eskel admirably still holding his guard, but his feet are taking too long to catch up, and when Geralt casts Aard, he goes flying.Geralt smirks. It’s always satisfying to knock Eskel down with signs, to beat him at his own game.Eskel sits up, his brows furrowed and his hair dusty. “You prick. I was trying to correct your posture. If you keep swinging your sword like a club, Vesemir is going to have your hide.”“What, you think anyone is going to give a shit about technique when you’re face to face with a Slyzard? Use every advantage you can.”Eskel frowns, but then shakes his head and doesn’t press it. This is a familiar argument, and will likely go nowhere. Geralt, still smug, offers him a hand, and drags his friend up from the dust. Their hands slide against each other, slippery with sweat.Summer in the Kaedweni mountains is not often hot, but on these rare, stiflingly warm days, when the sun bakes down on the training grounds from a cloudless sky, Kaer Morhen turns into one heaving mass of muscle, sweat and scars. Every witcher trains in minimum gear, most going only in trousers and boots. Some wear shirts, to protect fresh injuries or fair skin, and some, like Geralt, wear undergarments to bind down their chests.At fourteen summers old, the young witchers’ bodies are growing ever more rapidly, nearing their adult heights and filling out. In Geralt’s case, this means that the growing breast tissue refuses to hide amongst the muscle mass on his chest any longer. He has only recently started to wear the compressing breastband, more out of comfort, rather than any misguided sense of decency.Things like shame or embarrassment about nudity are things witcher children learn out of very quickly in a keep full of people. Not to mention that witchers exist outside social norms in all aspects, views on gender included - just because Geralt has a little more breast tissue than most witchers doesn’t mean that he needs to cover himself up. He chooses to bind his chest down, but not everyone does. Master Wilfrid, for example, goes nude and hairy from the waist up on these hot summer days, same as everyone. Witcher Reuben, when he was at the keep last winter, told Geralt that he had gotten his hands on a skilled surgeon in Oxenfurt, and had his breasts removed. Geralt stowed that bit of information deep in his mind, making plans for the future.Eskel wipes his hands on his trousers and glances at Geralt, no doubt noting the way he’s breathing much harder than his opponent. “I still can’t believe you can train in that. And beat half of us to the ground while you’re at it. It’s impressive.”Geralt frowns. ”I don’t wear it to impress anyone.””I know.” Eskel says, and rubs his chin and the sparse hairs sticking out of it, as well as his upper lip, like spiders’ legs. Then he smiles. ”Doesn’t stop me from being impressed, though.”Geralt swats at him, a boyish reaction to a compliment, but he is smiling as well.The years since their Trials have been hard, but they have served to bring him and Eskel even closer. Geralt’s recovery from the experiments was rough and long, and as the sole survivor, his entire existence since then has been uncharted territory. Eskel has been right there next to him from the start. Both of them were desperate for any sense of normalcy in their lives, trying to beat back the trauma and horror with jokes and pranks and fights, the rough sort of closeness witcher children are known for. But they also found a new, fragile vulnerability in each other, with their cots pushed together in their shared room, talking long into the night. Under the covers tented over their heads, there wasn’t a topic too big, too frightening or too trivial to talk about: their pasts before Kaer Morhen, or their futures after it. Experiments, Trials, or friends long dead. Awkward affections, confused feelings, or the changes in their bodies, both with age and with mutations.Geralt’s hair started to grow in white after the experiments, and has been a constant source of ribbing from Eskel, half-serious and affectionate. Now it shines half-silver and half-copper in the sun.”Geralt! Eskel! Quit slacking off!” Vesemir’s shout sounds over the training grounds, and both boys snap to it, resuming their positions - postures correct this time, and smiles still in place. -- source link

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