#tldr: eskel dies and lambert seems solace in letho

[jaskiersvalley]

Please, Just Once More

@fontegagrilledcheese and @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde you wanted a cry, didn't you? Maybe this will help. It has some Lambert/Eskel and Lambert/Letho with off screen major character death, grieving and dash of an unhealthy relationship. Mature content ahead!

CW off screen major character death.

Please, Just Once More

A Witcher's lot in life wasn't exactly much. For decades, almost a century Lambert raged against it. He hated it, vehemently cursed it and wished he could have been anything but a Witcher. But, then again, if he hadn't been, he would never have met Eskel. Or, if he had, he would have probably been just as shitty to him as other humans were. As much as Lambert wished he was different, he knew himself well enough to know he'd have spat and sneered like the rest of the world. Having Eskel was the one small solace of his existence.

They had a rhythm worked out over the years, meetup points to see each other. It wasn't always glorious, muscle aching sex. Some nights they just needed a cuddle, a warm body who could be trusted to sleep next to. Those nights were Lambert's guilty pleasure. And the times Eskel growled and manhandled him. There weren't many people out there who could make Lambert feel small. In fact, other than Eskel, nobody had managed to do that. It was a wonder in his eyes, an indulgence that neither of them ever acknowledged but still actively sought out.

Another little while passed while Lambert was alone on the Path. Some nights the only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that soon he and Eskel would meet up again. This time, it was in a little backwater village where one of the old crones allowed them use of her barn for a few nights. It was only after Eskel had cleared a rather cheeky hirikka out who kept stealing from her vegetable garden that they were allowed access to the barn. She's had no other way to repay Eskel. So now, once a year, they spent a few nights there.

Finally, it was time for Lambert to make the trek to the barn. Usually Eskel was there half a day before him and got things ready. So Lambert was surprised and a little disappointed to find the barn locked and dark still. At least it allowed him the chance to make things ready for Eskel's arrival for a change. Getting the key from the old crone, Lambert got started trying to make things as homely as possible.

The next day Eskel still wasn't there. Lambert did his best not to get antsy or angry, Eskel wouldn't forget him, wouldn't break his promise or their traditions. By the following day, Lambert was restless. Disappointment was hidden under a fiery wall of rage. He was going to give Eskel a piece of his mind when he finally turned. The bastard had probably gotten lost in another fisstech filled orgy and forgot about their arrangement.

On the fourth day the old crone threw Lambert out.

Anger fuelled by fear had Lambert blazing through the next couple of months with a vengeful violence. He seethed at the thought of Eskel skipping out on their meeting. As if Lambert hadn't made it obvious enough just how much they meant to him. It was rare to get a good fuck on the Path and Eskel had been providing that service. If Lambert kept telling himself that, his heart wouldn't break in two and he wouldn't throw all his training out the window in favour of tracking down Eskel to make sure he was okay. Eskel was one of the best Witchers out there, of course he had to be okay.

Another meeting spot, this time a clearing in a forest. Lambert made the fire, set out his bedroll and caught two rabbits. In the morning, the rabbit Lambert had left on the side, carefully bundled up was still there. Eskel hadn't arrived in the middle of the night and, feeling peckish, eaten it. Just out of spite, Lambert had the rabbit for breakfast, even if he was nearly sick afterwards. He had been foolish to think Eskel would come. As if he could have arrived in the middle of the night without waking Lambert anyway.

After a week in the clearing, Lambert was well and truly sick of catching his own meals. If Eskel couldn't be bothered to make an appearance then Lambert would teach him a lesson and not turn up at their next one.

He did go, despite his vow of petty revenge. Eskel didn't turn up there either.

Two more meeting points where Lambert spent as long as he could, waiting for Eskel to arrive. Twice more he was let down. Come winter, he all but charged up to Kaer Morhen, more than ready to chew Eskel out for being a dickhead. He could have at least sent word that he wouldn't be there, that Lambert shouldn't waste coin and time on a foolish matter of the heart.

The only problem was, Eskel never made it to Kaer Morhen before the pass closed. For the rest of winter, Lambert paced like a caged wolf, almost out of his mind with anger. The coward was just avoiding him, unable to look him in the eyes after standing him up. Well, Lambert would make the bastard pay. As soon as the snow eased and the path down the mountain was clear, Lambert was going to hunt Eskel down and give him a proper Witcher bollocking; with signs and all. In all his scheming, Lambert never saw the pitying glances the others sent his way. Or rather, he chose to ignore them because Eskel was alive, if only so Lambert could kill him as soon as they met again.

Spring was just around the corner, there were still patches of snow and ice but Lambert needed to go. He was going back to the first place where Eskel had left him alone and would track from there. It was one of the things Lambert excelled at, sniffing someone out and finding them; it wasn't all that different to tracking down a monster or a creature.

Working backwards, Lambert didn't have to go far. Two town down the road he heard of a contract that had been difficult to fill in one of the nearby hamlets. So much so, it took more than one Witcher to complete it. It had to be Eskel who finished off the contract, Lambert was certain. There was nobody else who could take on a difficult contract and come out victorious. If Eskel couldn't handle it, then the whole Continent was fucked.

The ground was just starting to come up green again after winter as Lambert stepped into the hamlet. He was given wary glances and people scurried out of his way. It suited him just fine, there would be no obstacle between him and the person in charge of the settlement. Knocking to keep an air of politeness, Lambert didn't wait to be permitted to enter, he barged in.

"I want to hear about the Witcher who completed the contract last year."

The woman gave him a shrewd stare, obviously weighing up her options. In the end, she shrugged, "Not much to say about him. Short chap for a Witcher. Didn't much fancy his chances after the big one failed."

Lambert's world stilled. Surely he heard wrong. He tried to smile and shook his head.

"I'm sorry. Did you say short? And that the big one couldn't complete the contract?" By human standards, all Witchers were large. It didn't mean anything that this woman referred to the one that failed as big.

He was given another once over.

"The little one warned us not to melt down or sell the swords or medallion. That someone would be by for them." Her eyes landed on Lambert's medallion. "I'm guessing that's you."

That was not at all why Lambert had come. He wasn't there to ferry some random Witcher's shit back to their home. Fuck, if it was a Viper or a Cat then he'd have weeks of travel. Before he could protest, the woman stood and walked to a chest. Opening it, she pulled out a carefully wrapped bundle that clinked as she set it on the table. Lambert had no time to refuse, frozen in time while the world rushed by him as the cloth was flipped open. Two swords, one silver and one steel stared at him. Running up the almost familiar blades, his eyes settled on the pommel that he knew all too well. Wrapped around the handles, holding them close was a medallion, a snarling wolf angrily glaring up at Lambert for his failure to come find Eskel sooner.

"What happened?" His voice was hoarse, a hand reaching out to run a finger over the sharp edges of the medallion.

"Big brute, scarred to Nilfgaard and back, took the contract but never came back. After three days, his horse was getting restless so a few men ventured out. Found him propped against a tree, still warm but without breath in his body." The woman didn't seem all that bothered by it and Lambert wanted to rage. She should have been devastated that the world lost a good man. "Probably wasn't quick enough. The other Witcher came along not too much later, said we should burn the body, accepted the horse and the dead one's packs as payment. Left the swords and medallion though, said he had no use for those."

Logically, Lambert knew that Eskel was dead before he even got to the barn. But he couldn't help but feel like he should have gone looking. Shouldn't have assumed Eskel was fine, should have believed the little voice in his head that whispered that Eskel wouldn't ever deliberately forget him. Rage surged through Lambert, he wanted to slaughter the whole hamlet for now helping Eskel, for not going to find him sooner. Humans always claimed they were better than Witchers, but they hadn't gone searching for Eskel either. They were just as bad as Lambert, true scums of the earth.

Wordlessly, Lambert wrapped the swords up again but he took the medallion, tucked it into one of his pockets. The last bits of Eskel. Whatever bastard had the rest of his things, had Scorpion had better never cross paths with Lambert because the only way they'd part way was with one of them dead.

Turning to leave, Lambert marched out of the hamlet, kept walking, no destination in mind. He just wanted to reach the edge of the Continent and fall off the rim. Eskel was gone. There was no good left in the world. Nobody to cuddle close against, no broad chest to press into and feel small. Bereft, Lambert sat in the middle of a forest, heedless of what went on around him. Grief stole everything from him, almost as though Eskel had taken with him all Lambert had trusted him with. His heart was cold, there was nothing left in the world that Lambert cherished.

With no purpose, Lambert wandered the Continent. He took contracts without argument, without thought. In a way, he wished that the creature that had bested Eskel was still around, just so he could kill it. Instead, every other monster met their end on Lambert's swords and signs. No kill brought him any closure though. The rage gave way to numbness which eased into indifference.

"Hello little wolf," a low voice growled at the edge of somewhere South. Somewhere Eskel had never been, so no memories could taint it for Lambert. "You're far from your usual hunting grounds."

The Witcher was large. Far larger than any other Lambert had seen and he'd seen a lot. Snarling, he bared his teeth, protecting his pack, keeping Eskel's swords safe. He should have taken them and the medallion back to Kaer Morhen but that would mean letting go of the last of Eskel. Lambert wasn't ready to do that.

Laughing, the other Witcher shook his head. "Don't worry pup, I have no use for your knickknacks. The name's Letho."

"Lambert."

A Viper who seemed all too entertained by Lambert's very existence. He was probably all too confident in his size being to his advantage but obviously he'd never met Lambert who thrived on defying the odds. Within moments Lambert had a dagger at Letho's throat and was met with a delighted chuckle.

"So feisty. Okay, let's play!"

It wasn't much of a fight, more of a tussle but Lambert landed in a few good blows before Letho's bulk overpowered him, broad chest against slender back, all that weight. Lambert couldn't help but go pliant, remembering Eskel's weight against his back. It wasn't the same, too broad, too heavy, too much muscle but it was the closest Lambert could get.

"Oh, it's like that, is it?" Letho purred.

Not that night, but three nights later Lambert found himself naked with Letho in his bed. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend it was Eskel again, the heaviness of a large body making the bed, dip. But the smell was wrong, the fingers too thick, callouses in all the wrong places. Scrunching his eyes shut, Lambert tried to will his memories into reality.

"You're going to feel so good split open on my cock."

It was the wrong voice and Lambert growled, "Shut up. Just fuck me already."

"Eager. I like it."

The cock that sank into Lambert was big, too big. Eskel had been large but not to such a degree. Wrapping his arms around too broad shoulders, Lambert's fingers brushed against oily skin rather than hair. Nothing tickled at his face either, no hair that escaped from being tucked behind Eskel's ear. Huffing in frustration, Lambert shoved at Letho.

"Hands and knees," he declared. It would be easier, he wouldn't have to smell Letho's scent, feel his muscles or miss the tender, crooked kisses he and Eskel used to share.

In the new position, Lambert could almost feel Eskel behind him. But the hands on his hips were too large, the cock not curved just right for when Lambert angled his hips just so. Still, he could pretend, even if it was for just one last time, that this was Eskel and this was their goodbye.

Once they both spilled, Lambert panted, head on his arms while Letho cleaned him up with his tongue. Not something Eskel would have ever done, his stubble too chafing usually for Lambert, no matter how great the idea of it all was. Instead, that weirdly smooth Viper buried his face between Lambert's cheeks, a hand sneaking between his legs. Lambert came again, whimpering at the oversensitivity of it all. There were bites and kisses left on the insides of his thighs, across his hips, chest and neck.

They fell asleep, Lambert small and tucked under Letho's chin. Even his dreams betrayed Lambert though, as much as he wanted, he didn't dream of being back in Eskel's arms.

Come morning, the bed was empty and Lambert sighed in relief. He stared down at his body, littered as it was with bites and bruises. Even those were wrong. Eskel used to leave crooked marks, the notch in his lip making the shape of his kisses so unique. Pressing on them, Lambert wanted to cry at how wrong they looked on his skin.

"Not to your liking?" Letho asked as he stepped back into the room.

Lambert shrugged, not bothering to cover up. It wasn't like Letho hadn't seen it all the previous night. It wasn't Eskel, never was and never would be again.

"They're not the ones you wanted, are they?"

The question had Lambert stilling, blinking up at Letho. Finally, he managed a small head shake. "You're not him."

Eyes glancing towards Lambert's pack, the two swords still covered, Letho nodded.

"I know."