(no subject)

[every_blossom_blooming]

Nina held her phone tight and leaned against the brick exterior of the Crow Club as she listened to the ring. "Pick up, pick up," she breathed, praying to every saint she knew that Geralt was in a place that had service. What had she ever done without a phone?

Her breath caught when she heard his voice on the other end. "Thank the saints," she breathed. "It's Nina, I need your help to get rid of a body. If you must know the details I will explain everything, but I would rather do it while we're disposing of it."

Comments

[every_blossom_blooming]

He touched her without all the uncertain fumbling of boys she'd known and Nina thoroughly appreciated it. She also appreciated the fact that Geralt hadn't put his arm down on her hair as he held his weight up. She'd had that happen far too often.

A smile tugged her mouth when she felt one of the buttons of his shirt beneath her fingers; she slid her other hand free from his hair so that she had both free to work the buttons loose.

"Of course I did. It was wonderful. Might try my hand at apple pie now that they're coming into season."

Nina leaned up to kiss Geralt's neck as she freed the last button. Her hands slid over his skin, following the lines of old and new scars. He had so many, but she supposed a lifetime of monster hunting would do that to a person. They didn't frighten her; they made him real.

[worstsin]

"Mmm," Geralt murmured, which might have been about the apple pie, and might have been about what he had beneath him. Her mouth was warm and wet against the pulse in his neck, her fingers were long and artful. They were soft, when they slid across his skin, marking the ridges of scar tissue.

He shivered, very softly. It was a contrast, the way her touch felt against different parts of his chest and belly. There were places which had healed to be particularly sensitive, and places where he could barely tell her fingers passed at all but for the pressure. He was accustomed to it, it didn't rob him of any pleasure.

"I'll have to bring you some apples to work with."

He bent down to press his face between the soft mounds of her breasts beneath the dress, resting it there against the fabric, taking in the warmth and smell of her.

With a roll of his shoulders, he shrugged out of the unbuttoned shirt. Geralt let it fall to the floor beside the sofa.

[every_blossom_blooming]

She couldn't help the smile that appeared when Geralt nuzzled against her chest; she could feel his breath through the fabric. For a moment she just stroked her fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck, but once his shirt came off they drifted back to some of the larger scars.

A healer could have helped these. A tailor could have hidden them. She thought of her own small scars, some from careless mistakes and others from battle: the burn across her knuckles, the fading rope scars around her wrists. The thin line where a knife had once been pressed to her throat.

Nina guided Geralt's head up so she could kiss his brow. "Help me with the buttons on the back," she murmured, meaning her dress. She could probably get most of them, but she imagined Geralt would have an easier time of it.