#thinking about geralt and dandelion getting a knife pulled on them in novigrad

[hanzajesthanza]

everyone talks about how you’d have to be stupid to rob a witcher on the street, because he can dodge your punches and slice you up easy

no one ever talks about how you’d have to be stupid to rob a witcher, because he has no money to rob

[jaskierswolf]

The Bard of Kaer Morhen Pt.2/4

Previous

Jaskier had just turned eighteen the second time he met a witcher.

He was fortunately sober this time. He’d bumped into Eskel a few times over the last two years and whilst the man tragically still rejected his flirtations they had become fast friends. Eskel thrived off the extra coin that Jaskier’s songs brought in and had even managed to upgrade his armour which thrilled Jaskier. Eskel’s last set of armour had been starting to fall apart and Jaskier was worried about him. He didn’t want his friend to get hurt on the hunt.

Another bonus to their friendship was that Jaskier was already successful fresh out of university, the envy of all his peers. He was the up and coming talent. He was the bard to hire for social events.

And he was also earning a reputation for being an unparalleled lover too.

He wasn’t sure which he was more proud of.

He was strolling down the path from Lyria towards Vengerberg with his lute in his hands when he saw him.

His hair was like fire but his eyes shone like liquid gold.

Another witcher.

Jaskier grinned and trotted up to the man. He was pulling a dark horse behind him and grumbling under his breath with a sour expression on his face.

And Jaskier loved him.

“Witcher!” Jaskier called as he approached.

The man glared at him with fire in his eyes and Jaskier could have swooned. Were all witchers so handsome and sexy? Jaskier decided they must be, a side effect of the mutations perhaps. Eskel hadn’t never been willing to discuss that side of witcherhood.

“What do you want, bard?” The man growled.

Jaskier felt a rush of arousal at the gruff tones of the witcher’s voice. “Spare a humble bard a tale, witcher, and maybe you’ll find out.” He winked as he stepped closer to the gorgeous redhead.

He wanted to run his hands through those curls, and he was certain the man’s armour was about to rip open on his arms. Jaskier had never seen such large strong arms before, not even on Eskel. This man was pure muscle and it made Jaskier’s heart feel weak.

Recognition lit up in the witcher’s eyes much to Jaskier’s delight. “You’re Eskel’s bard.” He grumbled.

“I’m my own bard.” Jaskier corrected. “Darling Eskel seems determined to reject any opportunities to claim me.” Jaskier pouted for added affect and let his fingers trail absentmindedly down the witcher’s arm.

“Back off, bard.” The witcher growled. “I have a partner.”

Jaskier tilted his head and smirked. “That’s not a problem.”

The witcher laughed. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that, but I don’t think you’d win in a fight against another witcher, bard.”

Jaskier pouted but stepped away. “Fine. You win but I’m a flirt by nature so don’t take it personally. You witchers are a slippery bunch. So handsome and yet so unobtainable. Although,” He dropped his voice back into his lower register to flirt some more. “If you and your partner ever want some company.”

“Fuck off bard!” The witcher snapped. “To the gods, Eskel must be mad.”

Jaskier shrugged. “I grow on people. I was serious about the tales though. Same as Eskel, you’ll get a cut of the coin if you tell me some ballad worthy adventures. Perhaps a wyvern or other draconid, they always go down well with an audience. Ooh or a real dragon! There aren’t many of those left.”

“We don’t hunt dragons.” The witcher rolled his eyes.

Jaskier persisted. “But you must have seen one.”

“No.” The witcher shook his head.

Jaskier huffed. It seemed this witcher would be harder to crack than Eskel. Eskel had always been funny and open. This new witcher was faster to anger and less tolerant to Jaskier’s tactile and openly affectionate personality. He grinned, perhaps this one would be more likely to let him join him on a hunt, if only he could prove himself to be useful. He was pretty handy with a dagger after all. His enemies always seemed to underestimate him which he used to his advantage masterfully.

Jaskier walked with the witcher back towards Lyria. He was going in the wrong direction to where he wanted to go but he was a curious fellow and he just couldn’t let this beautiful man walk away from him without at least getting one story or even a name.

When they reached the city Jaskier waved at the merchants in the square that he knew and bartered quite successfully with the barkeep for the witcher’s lodgings and food. He slid onto the bench opposite the witcher and stared longingly as his red curls danced in the candlelight.

“So tell me, witcher, do you have a name?” He hummed as he sipped his ale. He preferred wine but prior experience had taught him to only order ale in this particular tavern.

The wine was shit.

“Lambert.” He growled.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Lambert.” Jaskier raised his mug of ale and grinned.

The ale loosened Lambert’s tongue somewhat and Jaskier was able to pull a few basic tales from the man, nothing to sing about in their raw form but Jaskier knew he could easily fix it with a few artistic embellishments. The food was tolerable, not great but not as bad as the wine. Lambert seemed to have no complaints as he wolfed down two full plates to Jaskier’s one. Jaskier had noticed Eskel ate like a starved man too when coin afforded a more lavish amount of food so Jaskier had made sure to order extra.

Lambert grumbled what could have been a thank you, or equally a grievous insult, at Jaskier and then downed the last of his ale.

It was at that point when things began to go downhill.

The doors flung open and two rowdy drunk idiots fell stumbling into the tavern.

“Oi!” One of them shouted. His skin was pale, and almost yellow from years of excessive drinking and his eyes were bloodshot. He was a mess. “Where’s the fucking mutant?” He roared and the other man laughed before coughing his lungs out.

“We don’t want no mutants in our city.” The second man wheezed. “They’re unnatural beasts!  Steal our women and children to turn them into the monsters they’re supposed to kill!”

“Come out, freak and we’ll kill you quickly.” The first man cackled and spat on the floor.

A silence fell over the tavern.

Lambert gripped the hilt of one of the swords that was resting next to him on the bench, but Jaskier was faster. He’d pulled the dagger from his boots and had it pressed up against the first man’s neck before Lambert could even blink.

“Say that again.” Jaskier hissed as he pressed the dagger into the drunkards throat. It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood but it had certainly shaken the other man.

The first drunk swallowed nervously and his eyes flashed to his companion who answered, sounding less confident than before. “We don’t want no mutants in our city.”

Jaskier grinned and tilted his head. “Firstly, that’s a double negative. So you’re saying you do want the witcher’s in your city which I wholeheartedly agree with. Witchers are some of the finest people I’ve met.”

The poor man looked confused. His alcohol addled brain couldn’t keep up with Jaskier’s quick tongue.

“Secondly. Don’t you dare call my friend a freak again or I will not hesitate.” Jaskier pulled his dagger away from the man’s throat and turned back to join Lambert at the table.

He heard the heavy breathing of his attacker as he launched into an attack but the blow never hit. Lambert had drawn his own knife and thrown it at the man before Jaskier could even turn around.

The dagger hit the drunk in the shoulder and the man howled in pain. Both men scurried from the tavern with their tails between their legs. Luckily Jaskier was well liked by the barkeeper and his family and they weren’t thrown out after them.

Lambert clapped him on the back. “Thanks, bard.”

Jaskier nodded and pulled the witcher into an awkward hug. “Anytime, witcher. Anytime.”

__________

It was a rare occasion when two witchers met on the path. They preferred to stay out of each other’s way, there just weren’t enough contracts anymore for them to occupy them same areas and still make enough coin to live on, even with the bard’s songs, which was why Geralt was surprised to run into Lambert in Rivia.

He tried not to go back to Rivia too often. His chosen name made it awkward to be around the locals. He’d tried to assimilate a Rivian accent but around born Rivians he just sounded like a cheap copy but as was the way, a contract had lured him into town.

“Geralt of Rivia!” Lambert cheered when he spotted him and Geralt cursed under his breath. “You’ve come home!”

“Very funny, Lambert.” Geralt muttered but went over to greet his brother. “You here for the contract?”

“Just got back from the Alderman’s house. Drowner infestation down by the docks.” Lambert pushed an ale towards Geralt.

Geralt hummed thoughtfully. “Fancy splitting the coin.”

Lambert raised an eyebrow at him. “Desperate for the coin, wolf?”

Geralt grunted in affirmation. “My armour needs repairs. Right now it’s that or a decent meal. Not both.”

As if on cue, Geralt’s stomach growled causing Lambert to howl with laughter. “Take the contract.” Lambert grinned as he dumped a heavy coin purse on the table. “Ran into Eskel’s bard friend. Turns out he’s quite the investment.”

Geralt frowned at the sight of the gold coins sparkling in the dim light of the tavern. The mysterious bard, the lover of witchers had apparently gotten even Lambert to roll over. Lambert didn’t make friends with anyone outside of the wolf pack and his cat lover.

“You find out his name?” Geralt asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Fuck!” Lambert groaned and hid his head in his hands. “It just never came up!”

The mysterious bard went by a few names depending on where you were on the Continent. In Cidaris he was known simply as the Witcher’s Bard. Further south in Metinna the name Dandelion cropped up. In Toussaint he was known as Fleur-de-lis. In Novigrad he was called Jaskier and in Vengerberg he was known as Daffodil.

It infuriated Geralt.

He wanted to know who this man was that had invested so much time and effort into singing their praises, who had befriended both his brothers with ease, who didn’t fear them.

“It never came up.” Geralt growled. “How the fuck didn’t it come up?”

Lambert flipped him off and pulled the mug of ale back across the table. “Look, he just never said, which is unbelievable because fucking hell I’ve never known anyone who can talk so much.”

Geralt hummed in response.

“Sort of like your opposite.” Lambert smirked so Geralt punched him in the arm. Hard. “Fuck off!”

“I’m taking the drowner contract.” Geralt stood up and grabbed his swords. “Some of us still work for a living.”

“Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it.” Lambert grinned and took a long draught of his ale and cackled as Geralt stormed out of the tavern to go search for the drowner nest.

It was all this fucking bard’s fault.

Geralt didn’t know why he was angry with the bard. He’d never even met him. He chalked it down to petty jealousy that his fellow witchers seemed to be earning money off the stories they gave to the bard, that they were eating lavish hot meals with decent ale to wash it down with, that they could visit brothels whenever the need arose without having to worry about the next contract.

Of course, if Geralt didn’t give half his coin away to people in need then he’d probably not be having a problem in the first place, but he just couldn’t help it. What good was a trip to the brothel if he knew that he’d taken the last of a villagers coin and they wouldn’t be able to feed their family that week.

The guilt would sour the pleasure before it could begin.

He sighed and pinched his nose.

“Bloody bard.”

He’d heard the bard’s songs a few times in his travels but never from the composer’s lips. He’d asked a few times whether the troubadours had written the songs but none of them had. One snivelling looking pompous bastard had laughed in his face and declared that his own songs were far superior and that they only reason he played the witcher songs were because they drew in a bigger crowd.

Geralt suggested that that meant the songs were better and the bard went blue in the face and then stormed out of the tavern. Geralt had been asked to leave soon after.

One girl, a pretty blonde with cornflower blue eyes, one of which was hidden behind her hair, had giggled and said she was just stealing the songs from a friend of hers but wouldn’t say anymore about the mysterious witcher bard. He’d felt foolish after asking because he knew that Eskel’s bard was a man, it was just the girl’s eyes had drawn him in more than he would like.

It wasn’t that Geralt cared about the bard.

He just wanted to know for himself.

Nothing more.

_______

Next

[afterhoursfic]

Geralt isn't sterile, because of... whatever reasons you want (second set of mutations? just lucky?) and he gets off like crazy on breeding whores/women he forces. Maybe he'll accept sex as payment for a contract if the village is too poor to pay (or he insists on it even if they can, when he smells a cute little virgin,) growling about how he's going to get a witcher pup on them, so everyone knows what a ruined slut they are, while they cry and beg him not to but can't possibly stop him.

Warning: non con

I really loved this prompt and I hope you enjoy it.

P.s. my dirty talk is uh not great so forgive that please 

P.p.s The whole thing with the potion and letter in Oxenfurt is canon in the game so our boy could be out there doing this

.

When he got Shani to sneak him into Oxenfurt academy to look for information on O'Dimm, admittedly he didn't expect much, and he definitely didn't expect to see a letter posted on a door about his encounter with two academics in Flotsam what felt like decades ago.

In truth, he had forgotten about the whole encounter, of two men who approached him to ask if he would drink a potion, and against his better judgment, had done it. He didn't know the point in it, he was still a witcher, his hair stayed white, he didn't go blind, and his dick didn't shrink so could he be blamed for the whole thing being lost to the back of his mind.

Although now it is apparent that the potion did have a purpose, to make him fertile again, and the academics had even had a spy follow him to monitor his progress, or at least to have proof that the potion worked in the form of expanding bellies as they had called it.

Clearly, his reputation for bedding women preceded him, but as he thought back on the past year or so, most of his encounters had been with sorceresses, and in one memorable case a succubus, beings incapable of bearing child, although there could be one woman, Violet? Viola? that he had paid for at the Passiflora almost seven months past, and if he were to see if there was any truth to this, any chance that the potion even worked, that would be his best bet.

He abandoned his quest then, forgetting entirely about O'Dimm, Von Everec, and dirty dealings as he raced out of Oxenfurt and turned towards Novigrad.

~~~

It took a week until he reached the Passiflora and he'd barely stepped through the door before the Madame of the house was cussing him out for getting her best girl pregnant, too stunned about the whole situation he didn't even stop the woman from shoving him out of the brothel.

He barely had the mind to grab the woman's wrist, begging to know where Viola lived so he could find out the facts, he was supposed to be sterile after all and to make reparations as well. In the end, he had to use axii on the woman, but he managed to get an address out of her and it wasn't much longer that he was knocking on the woman's door.

As soon as it opened everything froze, he knew it was Viola in front of him with her swollen belly that looked ready to pop, the both of them staring at one another for a moment before she flew at him in a rage, slapping and hitting at any part of him she could reach until he finally calmed her with axii.

After almost 100 years of life, he knew whores worked with a strict pulling out policy for all men who entered, except for witchers, whos mutations meant that they were both sterile and unable to carry disease, perhaps one of the only perks they got from the whole ordeal.

He didn't need to debate about the probabilities of the child being his though, he could smell it on the woman, his scent just faintly as if it was under her skin, and something in him snapped at the thought. He did this, he fathered the life still growing in her and he latched onto the thought, let himself become addicted to it as he left the woman pregnant with his child in the street, barely remembering to lift the sign before he was heading for Crippled Kate's, a brothel on the docks who surely wouldn't turn away his coin even if the rumor of him fathering a child had reached them.

Sure enough, coin quickly passes hands and then he's being led to a room. Normally he would take his time, focus on the woman's pleasure by first getting her off on his mouth and then with two fingers before sliding into her like a hot knife into butter, ever eager not to add to the rumors about Witcher's being mindless beasts.

Now though he very much plays into the lie, can it be a lie when he shoves the woman to the bed, ignoring her protest as he climbed on top of her, and it's almost too easy to rip her underwear off and slide his cock into the tight, tight heat of her cunt as he quickly bottoms out.

He ignores the woman's scream as he instantly begins to pound into the woman, pushing her legs up until they're almost at her ears as he only fucks into her faster.

It's as if a fog has clouded his mind with the sole focus to fuck and breed, paying no mind to the tears streaking down the woman's face and her sobs for him to stop, he doesn't even feel it when she rakes her fingernails down his back, shoulders, hell even his face to deter him, instead it just spurs him to move faster, to fuck deeper as a growl emanates deep in his throat as he gets closer to the edge.

"How's it feel to be a witcher's bitch, stuffed on my cock and bred full of my come" The woman under him cries some more, broken sobs leaving tear tracks down her cheeks as his hips begin to lose their rhythm as he got closer to his release "What will the Madame say when your belly starts to grow with my child, nothing more than witcher's whore who bent arse up to be bred on my cock"

When all the girl does is plead for him to stop, it finally pushes him over the edge, slowing down his thrusts to drag out his orgasm as long as possible to coax every drop of come out of him to fulfill his promise to breed the bitch full.

When he's milked his cock dry he's left panting over her, cock still hard and eager for another go at her cunt, all while the girl is trying to wriggle away, to push him off of her. So when he rolls his hips into her again he watches her eyes go wide and tears threaten to spill over her cheeks before he slaps his hand across her mouth, muffling her screams now as he quickly picks up the pace of his hips, railing into the girl now as his hand gets slick with tears and snot as she sobs under him.

He doesn't last nearly as long this time, his cock still sensitive from the first time but with a noise somewhere between a growl and a groan he comes again, filling up her cunt with even more of his seed until he's left giving small aborted thrusts as the stimulation to his cock becomes too much and he finally pulls out.

He moves further down the bed to watch his come begin to leak out of her and chuckles when he sees her clench as if trying to keep it in "For all you're crying, it seems you like being full of my come"

The woman shoves him away and scrambles to the top of the bed, eyes frantic and wild "You're a sick fuckin' bastard and you can pay extra for that"

He just shrugged as he got off the bed and tucked himself back into his breeches, a smile on his face "You didn't say no and it sounded like you were enjoying yourself" Before she could say anything further though he did reach into his coin purse and tossed two crowns at her "That's for the baby"

It was almost comical the way her face paled and the sneer slid off her face "What baby"

He just scoffed at her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world "I'm sure you know how sex works"

"But you're a bleedin' witcher-"

"Sterile I know, but ask them down at the Passiflora and see if they agree" He can only chuckle as he watched her eyes widen and her face grow even paler, she must have heard the rumors and paid them no mind then, good, it meant others wouldn't listen either, and so he left her still leaking his come and tried to temper his thoughts as he walked back to his room for the night.

~~~

He doesn't have to wait long for the next girl to fuck, later that night in fact, nursing an ale in the Chameleon he's already half hard thinking back on his time in the brothel and debating on who in the inn might be willing to go to bed with him.

The answer comes in the form of Dandelion, who approaches him with a woman on each arm, one of which, with dark hair and tan skin immediately plants herself on his lap, surprise flitting across her face when she can evidently feel his now rapidly hardening cock press against her ass before she seems to compose herself, a salacious grin on her face as she presses closer to him and twirls a finger through his hair.

It's all too easy to lead her up to his room, and as soon as the door locks behind him he's ferrying her towards the bed, ignoring the way she tries to kiss along his jaw and paw at his clothes as he lifts her by the waist and throws her on the bed, following close behind and smothering her protest with a kiss.

He had planned to treat this time as an experiment. Back in the brothel, he had quickly succumbed to some sort of animalistic urge and he wanted to see if he could tame it somewhat. He still planned on breeding her, just getting kicked out of every establishment he entered for abusing the woman wasn't on his to do list.

Easier said than done because as soon as he was leaning over the woman that same need to just fuck and come and fuck again came over him.

This time he pulled back, ignoring the look of confusion on the woman's face before flipping her over and shoving her head into the pillows to muffle her cries. In the next moment, he had hitched her skirts up above her waist and pulled his aching cock out of its confines and simply pulled the woman's underwear to the side before he pushed in with a low groan, made even better as the woman clenched tight around him, clearly not prepped for the sheer size of him.

This time he does have the mind to gently roll his hips into her at first, pushing her harder into the bed when he feels her first start to struggle before he rapidly picks up his pace, head thrown back as he feels the girl squirm and clench under him, letting out a groan at the almost vice like grip she had on him as he heard her cry into the pillows.

"Fuck, you're so tight, a nice little hole for me to breed" The woman renews her struggling then, one of her hands trying to reach back to hit him, push him, it didn't matter because it didn't stop him from leaning over her, the angle meaning he could reach even deeper into her cunt, earning a low growl as he thought it would be even easier for her to catch "So eager aren't you, milking my cock like you want to be bred with my pup"

It easy to keep the woman caged when he's pressed this close but it still doesn't stop her from trying to get away, her movements more often then not meeting his thrusts to push impossibly deeper as she clenches oh so tight around him, as if to stop him from fucking into her again, but only pushing him closer to the edge instead.

"If I'd known you were this desperate I would've bent you over the table and fucked you downstairs" He's so close now, panting and growling above her as he drives his cock into her, desperate to come inside her now as she lets out little pained grunts where her face is still shoved against the bed "Would've shown the whole town what a desperate slut you are for a witcher's cock to stuff you full of come, course they'll know when you grow with my child, know how you begged me to breed your cunt"

The girl goes frantic below him in her effort to get out from under him, but instead, she just gets impossibly tighter around him so that he's helpless but to come with a snarl, fucking into her a few more time before he still and lets the woman's movements and tight cunt milk his cock dry for the third time that day.

When he's finished he lets her push him away and watches as she all but runs out of the room, tears mottling her face as she tries to rub them away. Almost casually he gets up from the bed to tuck himself back in and amble back downstairs to finish his drink, only to be approached by Dandelion who looks nothing but concerned.

"I just saw Maya run off as if the Wild Hunt were chasing her, what the fuck happened up there"

"Another girl just looking for the thrill of sleeping with a witcher, took one look at my dick and panicked, tried to calm her but she bolted" He watched Dandelion examine him for a movement, a hand on his chin as he thought before a smile came over his face.

"If I were you I wouldn't go around telling people that girls have literally run from your dick"

"Fuck off"

"Now now none of that, let me make it up to you- if you're still in the mood that is" He'd just gotten off, for the third time that day, but the thought of someone else eager to get into his bed so soon has his dick start to harden as he nods at Dandelion. It's then the bard grips his shoulder and turns him to face a woman stood by the bar, a small smile on her face and a glint in her eye as she looks at them "Miriam has been asking after you all night and I am assured that she will not disappoint"

As he's leading a girl up to his room for the second time that night he can't deny that being friends with Dandelion certainly has its advantages.

~~~

Two days later he's leaving Novigrad, a mixture of no contracts and the rumor being spread of how he was more monster than man in bed had women more than hesitant to approach him, and so he said farewell to his friends before moving on to more fertile pastures, no pun intended.

His next opportunity comes a few days later in some village he didn't care enough to learn the name for. He's just come back from fighting a nightwraith and feels exhausted as he makes his way back to his room at the inn. At least that was his plan until he passes the corner of one building and a woman spits at him before calling him a freak.

He was used to the insults at this point, one of the few constants in his long life, and before hadn't let himself be bothered by them, but there's an itch at the back of his mind that's begging to be scratched and so doesn't even think twice when he moves off the road to instead pull the woman deeper into the alley between the two houses and shove her face against the wall of the hut.

"What the fuck are you doing mutant scum, my boyf-"

"Careful, as my good friend Dandelion says, all are equal in the alcove" He can hear her asking just what he meant by that but after he'd pushed her skirts up and her underwear down it was pretty self-explanatory and quickly shoved a random bit of cloth into her mouth to stop her shouts from alerting passersby.

He can't help but shudder and let out a loud groan as he sinks into her, not even giving her the courtesy of waiting a moment before he's soon pounding into her, his hips snapping up to enjoy the warm, wet, tight heat of her cunt even as she struggles and tries to get a leg back to kick at him.

Granted he's only done this a few times, but he's started to relish the way the women struggle and beg to get out of his hold, to feel them inadvertently tighten around him or push back as they move so that his dick reaches even deeper into them. It would be far too easy to just use axii on them, the women limp under him and their hole loose and warm around him, but he wants them to feel it, wants them to feel how easy it is to just push them down and take what he wants, to fuck them open on his cock before breeding them.

"Wonder what your neighbors will think when they see no ring on your finger but your belly swell with my child" He chuckled as he felt her writhe under him, one hand now pulling harshly at his hair which only served to turn him on even further, spur him to fuck her even harder as he put a hand on her waist to pull her back on his cock with every thrust "They'll think you're a whore who'll open their legs for anything that moves, even a witcher, and how you begged me to breed you with my child"

It's over far too quickly but he makes sure to milk his cock dry inside of her before he pulls out and heads back towards the tavern for a well deserved drink.

He thinks that’s it for the night until he's met with some skinny farmhand pointing a finger at his face about how he raped and abused his girlfriend. What the man expected out of the situation was beyond him, but it probably wasn't to be thrown over his shoulder, easily following the man's scent back to his house before kicking down the door.

The girl he fucked in the alley is there with red eyes and starts hitting and pulling at his arm in an effort to free her boyfriend, but it doesn't move him. Instead, he ties the man to a chair and faces it towards the bed before he drags the woman over the covers to fuck her again and again, letting her writhe and squirm on his cock as he tells her what a good bitch she is letting him have her again, letting him fuck her over and over and over to make sure she catches with his seed.

He pulls her up so she's sat in his lap, both of them facing the boyfriend that's still tied to the chair, a mix of pale-faced horror and red with fury as he rests a hand on the girl's stomach and whispers that her boyfriend will make such a good daddy for his child, how he'll take good care of them and keep food on the table whilst silent sobs wrack her body.

It's only when he's finally spent, his orgasms nothing more than a couple of dribbles of come, that he finally leaves the pair for the night, a part of him almost welcoming the insults towards him now if that's how it ended.

~~~~

It’s almost a week later when he’s in some town outside Oxenfurt and his urges have only gotten worse and will very likely be the death of him.

It’s not so much the angered spouses or brothers that worry him, he got used to that long ago when Dandelion used to travel with him, instead, it’s the fact that he’s taken to accepting sex from the women in the village instead of coin.

In the smaller towns, where parents had far too many mouths to feed, it was all too easy for them to accept his offer, and they gladly threw him the first girl he looked at, sometimes that was girls fresh into their maidenhood and other times spouses or betrothed who smelled so sweet that he just had to taste, and often remarked on what a nice little family he was helping to create as he pounded into them.

In this town, however, they had heard of the witcher accepting sex instead of coin but when they’d seen his gaze fix on the Aldermans daughter as they discussed a contract, they were quick to offer him coin and only coin, luckily for them, he was running low and needed a list of things he’d put off as he had instead taken his pay between a woman’s thighs.

He would have accepted the measly coin and been done with it provided the drowners he had been hired to deal with hadn’t turned into a whole host of necrophages, from water hags to rotfiends and even ghouls.

When he demanded compensation for the trouble, he had just cleaned out the entire coastline for them so that they could fish again, the Alderman was quick to brush him off and cast him out of the town, knowing that his price would be his daughter.

It wasn’t until he threatened to tell other witchers of this town, of how they refused to pay him for services rendered so that when the next monster came, as it inevitably would, no witcher would help.

He had to bite back his smirk when the man finally agreed to pay, on the condition that he pick the girl. It wasn’t ideal and not what he really wanted, but if he at least got to breed one girl in this town then it didn’t matter to him who it was, and so it was agreed, he would be put up in a room at the inn, food and drink supplied where the chosen girl would later meet him.

That was all well and good and he gladly ate his fill under the mistrustful eyes of the barmaid, but for the first time in a long time, he would be ending the night with a full stomach. He really should accept more coin on contracts.

An hour or so later having retired to his room, he opens the door to find a woman, not old per se, but definitely past her prime, and would not be able to rear his or anyone else’s child.

At first, there’s just anger at the Alderman for cheating his part of the deal, and he almost scares off the poor woman still stood frozen at his door before pulling her in. He would get back at the man for sure, but for now, he just needed something to temper his rage and fucking a hole, no matter how useless to him, would help.

Only, when it came down to it there was no anger or fury filled lust, he’d been ruined by unspoiled maidens and sullying those promised to others, so now when faced with neither of those he finds himself disinterested and barely able to fuck the woman into her own orgasm before kicking her out, leaving him unsatisfied and even worse than before.

Later that evening, when most of the town has gone to bed, he leaves the inn, not to go to Roach, but the Alderman’s house at the end of the street, far grander than any of the man’s people could afford and it’s almost too easy to slip through a window and pass through wide corridors without a sound.

It’s even easier to get into the girl's room, smelling of cotton sheets and honeysuckle as he shoves a cloth into the girl's mouth and pins her to the bed, the girl still too tired to put up much of a fight before he’s lifting her nightdress to expose pale, creamy skin that he craves to mark with his teeth.

Eventually, the girl realizes something isn’t right and tries to pull away, but the attempt is almost laughable as he presses first one and then two fingers into her, pumping them a few times before he’s lining up his cock and sinking in with a moan as the girl screams behind her gag.

He should really go easy on the girl, but he can’t help the way his hips pull back before fucking back into the tight grip of her cunt. It’s not long before she’s crying, her muffled sobs filling the room alongside his moans and the sound of skin slapping as he fucks into that tight heat even harder.

The girl has only recently come into womanhood, he can smell it on her and a fucker like her father is probably already looking at who the girl might marry in the coming months. He has to stop moving for a moment before he comes too soon at the thought of by then the girl's stomach would start to show, how the family’s name would be cursed out by those higher than them for letting the girl be spoiled, and by a witcher especially.

“You’re going to look so pretty full with my come, but you’ll look even prettier full with my child” The girl below him doesn’t react, not that he expected her to at this point, she just kept crying until her gag was soaked through with spit and tears “Tell your father it was me, that it was a witcher’s cock that fucked you so well, so full of come, that you had to carry his pup”

Spurred on by his own words he can’t help the way his hips stutter as he finally comes into the girl under him, breathless for a moment but eager still, there were a lot of rotfiends after all so why not take what he was owed.

His second orgasm washed over him quickly as he told her what a nice little breeding bitch she made, how well she fit his cock and milked him dry like she wanted to carry his pup. The third orgasm comes even faster when he threatened to fuck her in front of her father so he could see what a needy little slut she was, how well she needed to be bred, and with a finger on the girl’s clit she coming around him that quickly sends him hurtling over the edge as well.

He tucks her back into the covers, cleaning her face a little before leaving her to sob into her pillow with his come staining her thighs. He’s not inclined to stay in the town for much longer, so returns to the inn to grab his meager things, and after saddling Roach, makes for the next town and hole he’d get to fuck.