"Mm," Geralt sighed, lazy and pleased, at the touch of Nina's fingers. They were magic-using fingers, clever and long. But they were soft, not like his own, rough from bending around a sword. They were warm on his cock and the sensitive skin over his hips.

He shinied his trousers and underthings the rest of the way off, before carefully taking off the silver medallion and setting it aside, before pulling out the leather band in his hair. It fell over his shoulders, catching in the light, shafts without pigment picking yup every silver glimmer.

He cupped his warm hand between her legs. They didn't have any oil with them, unless she'd thought to bring some along. He would have to get her worked up before going much further.