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Geralt huffed in annoyance while he sat in the corner of the pub. His large glass of ale sat in front of him, the scowl never leaving his face as he watched you from across the pub.
Jaskier had an amused look on his face but continued to work on his songs. Geralt was utterly smitten for you, even when you sometimes doubted his brooding nature. He would always laugh at those who teased him for having a girlfriend.
You weren’t his girlfriend. You were more than just a mere statement like that. You were more than just a public item.
When the two of you were underneath the sheets, you traced his scars and kissed the pain away. You enveloped him into your presence when Ciri was captured by bandits, never blaming him for losing track of her. You killed many monsters with him, the talent of your blade was impressive, to say the least.
He carried you in his arms for fifteen miles when you twisted your ankle on a twig. He kissed the tears off of your cheeks when your father banished you from your home. He stabbed a mage in the heart when they poisoned your ale. He made love to you tenderly and roughly and whispered sweet nothings.
You were his lover, he was your lover. Even if Geralt hated it, you were bound by fate. Your souls were intertwined whether Geralt liked it or not. His love for you burned a hole right through his heart and stayed there, he never wanted that feeling to leave him.
However, now, to see somebody mindlessly flirt with you made his blood boil. His jaw was clenched so tightly that Jaskier thought he’d break his teeth. His glare was set on the man that just made you laugh, your head falling back in amusement.
Darkness had radiated off of him at all the thoughts that ran through his head. He pictured many times that Geralt’s sword came in contact with his head. Geralt pictured carving out his heart and squeezing it between his fingers.
smack!
Geralt’s whole body froze at the sound, his eyes were wide in shock. Anger and rage had bubbled up inside him had completely popped. How dare a mere human touch what was his?
The man, who was shamelessly flirting with you, had the audacity to smack your ass in public. And not to mention, in front of your lover. The more he could hear that smack echo across the wooden pub walls, he got furious.
Jaskier yelped when glass broke all over the table, Geralt’s hand now covered in ale. He completely shattered his pint with a small tense in his grip.
The look on your face was purely mortified, you were the most embarrassed you had ever been. You thought your conversation was lovely but it stopped at that, it was just lovely. You didn’t even notice that he was flirting with you; considering you only have eyes for one man.
You can see Geralt from the corner of your eyes, he was barreling right through the crowd, and you knew Geralt was coming for him. Your eyes locked with the man that was cheekily smiling at you. You quickly wipe off that disgusting smirk as you slap him across the face.
The man in front of you turns red in anger but before he could act on anything, Geralt was right by your side. He punched the man in his face, knocking him straight to the ground with a groan.
Geralt’s anger never faded when he turned towards you, the pub was now in full silence. You tried to explain to him what happened, you tried to get him to talk to you but he wouldn’t listen. He just grabbed your wrist in a tight hold and dragged you to the sleeping chambers of the pub.
He yanked you into his chambers and slammed the door closed. You placed your hands on your hips in defiance and opened your mouth to speak but before you could even get a word in, Geralt shoved your back against the door.
“He touched you.”
The gruff of his low voice was venomous and thick. He pinned your hands above your head, the wooden door poking onto your sensitive skin. He pressed his broad chest against yours, placing his knee right in between your legs to spread them slightly.
He growled into your ear, “he’s touched what’s mine.” You could only whimper at his jealousy laced voice. Wetness was already growing beneath your dress. You knew that Geralt trusted you, he trusted you with his life.
He has never doubted you for a second but the minor thought of someone putting their hands on you sent him into a mindless rage.
“I’m going to show everyone in this pub—this whole village—that you’re mine.”
You let out a half moan from his words, your body aching from his rough touches. He pressed rough kisses against your neck, biting and licking his way down to your collar bone. His hands let go of your wrists and moved down to your breasts.
You moaned loudly as he ripped your dress, making it easier to massage your breasts. He kissed your sweet lips with fervor, teeth occasionally clashing, and your moans were eaten by his lips.
“Geralt, please.” You begged for any kind of friction. You need him now. He could smell your dripping arousal, his eyes glinted in lust. “Look at you, begging so pathetically. Can that man make you feel this way?” You shook your head immediately but Geralt let go of your breasts. You sobbed at the loss of touch.
“Ride my thigh.” He sat down on the feathery bed, waiting for you to come. You were shocked, to say the least, Geralt had never asked you about this before.
He sat there, unimpressed, waiting for you to come over to him. “Now. I will not ask again, my love.”
You shyly walked over to him, becoming even more flustered when Geralt ripped off your entire dress in two. His eyes dilated further at your naked form, his cock getting harder and harder at the sight of you.
You shuttered as you placed yourself on his thigh, his hands found their way on your hips. Geralt had enough of your waiting and began rocking your hips slowly against his thick thigh.
Goosebumps eroded on your skin as he purred in your ear. “That’s it, love.” Your wetness was slick on his thigh, your grip tightened on his shoulders. You moaned so loud, your voice cracked as you could feel Geralt’s muscles contract beneath your folds.
You started to slow down as your climax neared but Geralt growled, moving your hips faster against his thigh. He moved his hand down to circle your clit, your body grinding against his tensed thigh.
You felt yourself gasp and moan and writhe onto of Geralt’s thigh. His eyes were piercing through your body, watching every single move you were making.
“Let go, my love. Make me proud.” The coil that rested below your abdomen popped, your screams only got louder as he held you against his thigh even harder. The screams that left your mouth echoed against the walls, Geralt smirking at the sound.
He made sure you rode down your high, gasps and whimpers leaving your mouth from the sensitivity you were now feeling.
“My cock isn’t even in you, love, and yet my thigh is completely drenched.” There was a very large wet patch on his pants, the smell was sweet, and he could practically taste it on his lips.
You gasped as he turned you over, your ass high up in the air. Your face was pressed into the fluffy bed, your hands rested on top of the soft sheets. Although you couldn’t see, you could hear Geralt unzip his trousers and toss them somewhere on the floor. You could hear another item of clothing fall softly on the hardwood and you could only assume it was his shirt.
You yelped in pleasure when he placed his cock inside you, completely without any warning. He could feel your walls swell against his cock, a dark moan relieving him.
“Your pussy was made for me. You’re mine, my love.” He moved his cock in and out of your aching walls. You took his whole cock, his balls slapping rapidly against your bottom.
“Who makes you feel this way?” He growled as you said nothing. You could barely think at the moment, let alone open your mouth and speak. He pounded into you almost harder, but he still became frustrated as nothing left your mouth.
His hand smacked against your ass, the sting made your eyes water but the pleasure stayed at the pit of your stomach. You looked thoroughly fucked; your hands crumpled up the sheets, your pussy throbbed and ached against the fast poundings of his cock, and your mouth was open wide in ecstasy; you left out small whimpering sounds.
“I’ll ask once again, who makes you feel this way?” His hand slapped hard against your other cheek, another yelp escaping your lips.
“You do, Geralt!” The bed was rocking back and forth from the force that Geralt was putting forth in his trusts. Everything was becoming too much as you came near to your second orgasm. Geralt’s grunts fill the room as he started to whisper sweet things—very different from the Geralt two seconds ago.
His pace never slows, the tip of his cock touching all the right places against your walls. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ and you let yourself go. You yelled and screamed as he rode your high, grunting, and moaning himself.
You were loud, unbearably loud. The whole pub and a couple of shops down the street had probably heard your calls for Geralt. Normally, you would be embarrassed by this kind of thing but you didn’t care. All you wanted was Geralt’s sweet and rough lovemaking.
“You fill me so good, my love.”
He never relented as he continued to fuck your pussy. He groaned at the squelching sounds from your orgasm. He was getting close and you could tell by the twisted pleasured face he was making.
His breath hitched and a low groan of your name released against his lips. His cum burst inside of you, your whimpers getting louder. He marveled in watching his seed drip down your folds and onto your thighs.
You two were now breathless, pants sounding the air, and resting next to each other on the bed. He pulled you into his chest and pressed small kisses against your temple.
You smiled brightly at him, your heart beating rapidly. His brooding heart soared at the feeling, his hand came to caress your face.
“I love you.”
You lifted your head a bit to press soft kisses against his jaw, giggling at his proclaim.
“I love you too, witcher.”
After staying in that position for a while, you wiggle out of Geralt’s comforting grasp. You were also in need of a new dress, hoping you could find one at a nearby shop. However, Geralt had other plans as he grasped your arm and pulled you back into bed, the smirk never faltering.
“We’re not done, my love. I don’t think the whole village has quite gotten the message.”