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baldursgarbage · 2 months ago

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Winter Mischief

A/N: forced proximity i love you... anyways this is my FIRST fic that i have ever posted. i am finally giving back to the fandom ecosystem. enjoy! despite being a totally different fandom - this was inspired by @senualothbrok's A Tight Fit. shout out to them for showing me how much i like this trope!

Pairing: Eskel/Reader

WC: 2.7k

Disclaimers: 18+, mildly smutty, use of she/her pronouns

AO3 Link

Echos rang through the winding and dilapidated halls of Kaer Morhen as she and Eskel walked in comfortable silence. She faltered slightly as they came to the spiraling staircase. The stairs themselves were sound enough, but the steep drop-off and lack of any meaningful banister could be intimidating to those who weren’t used to them. He offered his hand as a means to steady her descent and with a smile she slid her own into his grasp gratefully.

Her cheeks were already red, bitten by the brisk morning air, but he scented the further rush of blood to her cheeks. Eskel suppressed a brief, fluttering notion that it was his touch that might have been the cause of her blush. It was far more likely that embarrassment was what colored her cheeks, as it was her first Wintering and she was still growing accustomed to the dubious infrastructure of the fortress.

It had been an accidental Wintering. She had found Eskel halfway up to Kaer Morhen, gored and bleeding out as a result of the final, desperate attack of a dying Leshen. By some miracle she had managed to pile Eskel onto Scorpion, and rode them both to the stone gates. He recalled the way her soft body rocked against his, and her whispered comforts against his temple as he faded in and out of consciousness. He swallowed that memory, packing it away. It had teeth, it struggled and wiggled, made stronger by the feel of her soft hand in his.

“Something wrong?” She asked, his grip had grown tight around hers. He loosened it immediately and shook his head in response.

First snow had come all those nights ago. A blustering, icy tempest that promised a long and harsh winter, and left her no time to hike back to her cottage at the foot of the mountain. When Vesemir explained the predicament, she had taken it in stride. Well, as much as anyone could. The idea of hunkering down in a derelict fortress with four strange Witchers and their even stranger company was not appealing to most.

They found that she fit in quite well with strange company. She got on well with Cirilla, which wasn’t hard, and with Yennefer, which was quite difficult. In fact, one dark winter’s night, when everyone had begun recounting their conquests from the past year, she managed to make Lambert laugh recounting how she dragged Eskel up the mountain.

Lambert had howled into his ale at the mental image of Eskel flopping limply in the saddle of his own steed, while he was rescued by a knightly woman.

“Eskel, you brought a good one home!” Lambert barked, body still heaving with laughter. Eskel had ducked his head into his stew, embarrassed, but he wasn’t sure why.

In the weeks that followed, Eskel found her sticking close to his side. Initially, her presence made him cagey and uncertain. He felt clumsier with her eyes on him, and more hesitant, like any sudden move would scare her off. He didn’t want to scare her off. The first time she watched him light the library hearth with Igni, she had gasped aloud. Eskel spun to face her, expecting to find her eyes lit with horror, and instead found a delight that rivaled the blooming flames.

“You have magic?” Her voice was hushed with awe, but urgent with excitement. She was clearly restraining herself, not wanting to seem too eager.

“I do,” Eskel responded, perhaps not with enough detail because her brow furrowed. “They’re called Signs. Witchers have limited magical ability otherwise.”

“So that was a Sign?”

“Igni.” He affirmed, resisting the need to shuffle under the intensity of her gaze.

“Could you show me the others?” She quickly edited herself, “That is… When you have time?”

“You would like that?” He mused, surprised by her interest. Though he supposed any magic would be enticing to those who have little experience with it.

“I would.” She nodded, almost vehemently, a gleaming smile on her features.

After that, they became less mere cohabitants of the same place, and more so friends. She would busy herself perusing ancient witchering journals and the various bestiaries lying around Kaer Morhen while he prepared his potion supply for the coming Spring. Occasionally, she would pad up to Eskel’s workstation, book in hand, footsteps light against the cobbled floors, and ask him a question about a beast, how he might kill that beast, and which of his Signs would be most effective against it.

Soon, they had fallen into a steady routine until one night at dinner. She had cornered Eskel in the kitchen, chin held high, and insisted upon pulling her weight around the Keep.

“If I am going to drink your wine and eat your food, at least let me be helpful.” She chewed on her lip, the way she did when she was worried.

“When Lambert cooks, it hardly counts as food, but I’ll see what I can do, Kit.” Eskel muttered, drawing a curse across the room from Lambert.

“Maybe I could help you with your potions?” He paused for a moment, surprised. He had thought this was her way of telling him she’d grown bored of his company, but she was asking for more time with him.

“You would like that?”

“I would.” She smiled, something flickering in her gaze.

Since then, Eskel had been teaching her how to extract various poultices and prepare herbs the proper way. She had a deft hand and made quick work of breaking down the ingredients. Eskel still had to brew the tonics himself; they were far too caustic for her to handle, but her help had him so far ahead of schedule that they already needed to fetch more vials. So, they made their way across the Keep in search of more. His pace slowed as they came across the storeroom, and she fell into step beside him.

“They’re in here.” He heaved open the door, propping it open with his boot.

“I can hold it.” She moved to prop it with her shoulder, and Eskel stepped inside the storeroom. ‘Room’ was being generous, as it could hardly fit a grown adult.

“Careful. Door’s heavy.” A tell-tale creak and gust of air signaled his warning came a moment too late.

Eskel lunged to catch the latch just as the leaden force of the door sent her reeling into his solid frame. Their collision sent him backward, colliding against shelves as she met his chest with a jolt. In the commotion, empty vials were knocked from their places and clattered to the stone floor. Eskel brought his hands to her waist, feeling the wool and cotton layers of her skirt bunch beneath his fingers as he steadied her. The touch was fleeting, his hands flinching back to his sides once she found her footing.

The hardwood door slammed shut with a click of the lock, sealing them inside and plunging the pair into darkness.

“Oh. Um.” Her breath was warm against his cheek, and her fingers gripped at his gambeson in her rush to find purchase. Eskel could feel the plush of her chest pressed against his own, and hear the increasingly wild, thrumming heartbeat that lay beneath. “This is…cozy.” She toed at a stray flask of Swallow, sending it rolling. A blush had once again risen to her cheeks, and in an effort to create space where there was none, her thighs brushed against his hips maddeningly.

“Why the Hells was that door so heavy?!” She fumed.

“It’s alright.” He grunted, leaning back into the shelves as far as physically able, granting a small reprieve from the enticing shift of her hips. The last thing he wanted was for her to believe he was enjoying this. “Can you reach the latch?”

“I’ll try.” She huffed, halting her losing battle, and attempting to maneuver one arm behind her.

For a moment, her fingers fumbled with the latch, then she snagged the handle, turning and pushing. It didn’t budge. Eskel felt her go rigid with realization.

“Shit.” She hissed and throttled the handle once more. Her eyes darted around wildly, likely unable to make out much in near-total darkness.

“Locked?” He asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Yes.”

“Shit.” Eskel confirmed. Even the time he mistook a Drowner for a fisherman that needed resuscitation couldn’t top this. “This had to be the one functioning door in the entire Godsdamned Keep.”

She laughed half-heartedly at his attempt at humor. The sound brought a wave of goosebumps up his arms. He clenched and unclenched his fists nervously. Each sense felt traitorously heightened with her so close to him.

“What do we do?” She asked, chewing her lip again, nervous.

Of course she’s nervous, Eskel thought, she’s locked in a fucking closet with a hulking Witcher.

“We wait. Someone will have heard the commotion.” Eskel kept his voice steady, like how he would soothe Scorpion in a thunderstorm. He wasn’t sure if it was for her sake, or his. The clattering of the potions would have been loud enough for his brothers to hear at the far side of the Keep. Whether they thought it sounded urgent enough to investigate was another story.

She jostled, letting go of the latch and bringing her arm back around. The movement caused her to lurch slightly, pressing the slope of her palm squarely against his groin. Despite himself, he jolted at the unexpected heat of her hand, rutting into her palm. A soft gasp fell from her lips, echoing in the confined space.

“Fuck, sorry.” In a desperate attempt to regain any distance, he rotated away, lifting one boot as he moved. The surefooted Witcher landed a heel directly on top of a globular potion bottle, trying to shuffle away. It rolled under his boot, sending him reeling forward and pushing them both against the door. Eskel barely managed to snake one hand to cradle the back of her skull, preventing it from a thudding impact.

Their bodies melded together, her back flat against the rough wood of the door and the line of his body flush with hers. One muscular leg had slid between hers as Eskel stumbled, her skirts inching up as he ground into the apex of her thighs.

Eskel swallowed hard, ignoring the soft whine that escaped her lips, a siren’s song. He bit back the fire of arousal that it stoked in his gut, willing it not to spread.

“You hurt?” He asked, voice tight.

“No,” She huffed a short laugh that Eskel didn’t understand, “I’m not hurt.”

The fall left her head neatly tucked into the crook of Eskel’s shoulder. Her warm breath flowered against his heating skin, and he inhaled, instinctively scenting her. The heady, intoxicating blend of balsam and amber sent him over the edge of control. His pupils dilated further, no longer just from the dark, but from arousal.

Eskel watched her eyes widen as she felt an unmistakable hardness against her thigh. He cursed at himself under his breath.

“Eskel…” She started.

“Stop moving.” He growled. “Please stop moving.” He managed to worm both hands up the wall and push away. Bracing himself, he removed some of his crushing weight from her body, but was still unable to find true respite.

For a moment, they both stilled, chests heaving against each other. Eskel looked anywhere but her, trying once again to leash his self-control. He tried to bring to mind ghouls and chorts, even that one time he and Lambert stumbled across Vesemir while he -

“Eskel,” Her voice was low in his ear. “Look at me.”

He shook his head, resisting, knowing that if he did, he might not be able to pull back again. His hands tightened into the fists, the cords of his arms flexing and turning. Eskel grimaced, eyes closing. Her racing heart, her wild eyes.

“I’m frightening you.” Eskel ground out through clenched teeth. His entire body felt like twine pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment. Through his haze, Eskel felt the warmth of her hand hover just over the flesh of his cheek, deciding.

“Eskel. I’m not frightened.” Her stern words sent a shiver down his spine, and when her hand met his face, gently caressing the scarred tissue, the hair on the back of his neck bristled. His eyes fluttered, and he leaned into her touch like a neglected cat, barely able to hold back an affectionate keen. Another breath, and he picked up a new smell: The subtle musk of arousal.

His knees wobbled.

Another wave of desire crashed over him as he relented, meeting her stare. Wild hair, splayed against the paneled wood, framed her features. Her pupils were blown wider than Eskel had ever seen. Her lips were parted slightly, and her tongue darted out to wet them.

“Kiss me.” She sighed, a soft demand. His thoughts faltered, stumbled, then raced.

“You would like that?” The distance between their lips was closing. Eskel wasn’t sure which of them was moving.

“I would.”

Their mouths met, hungry and hot. She tangled both hands in his hair, securing him against her. Mind blank, save for the feeling of her lips against his, Eskel finally let his body drop against hers. She moaned into his mouth when his length pressed hard against her thigh.

He snarled in response, deepening the kiss. One of his hands still delicately cradled her head, the other encircled her waist, a strong arm holding her as closely as she’d allow. She pulled away first, panting for air.

Eskel found himself panting as well, but for another reason. The feel of her skin against his, the tangle of her fingers in his hair, her smell, her taste, it all left him overstimulated, yet he needed more. More of her.

“What is it?” Her voice cut through the haze. He blinked. He’d been staring, like a predator tracking its prey. Eskel decided to be honest.

“More.” He begged. “Please.”

She stared at him for a moment, something like awe twinkling in her eyes, then she lunged forward, sealing the space between them once again. Her hands snaked up, taking his and guiding them to her hips. Eskel groaned, the feel of her supple ass sending him reeling. He tightened his hold, needing to feel her, hold her.

She slid one leg up his calf, then higher, finding purchase at his hip. With a desperate roll of her hips, she pressed herself against his waiting cock. Frenzied, Eskel hoisted her, thrusting into her clothed sex. They moaned into each other at the friction. He was gone, lost in the heat of her mouth and the plush of her skin and the squeeze of her thighs at his hips. So gone that he didn’t hear the stomp of boots approaching the door.

“What the fuck is happening in here?” Lambert barked, his typical irate tone echoing through the hall. They froze.

The latch turned.

“Wait.” Geralt was quicker to the draw, placing a staying hand on Lambert’s shoulder. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening inside that storage closet, combine that with preternatural senses of smell and hearing, Geralt was pretty damn sure he didn’t want to see this shit. “Need help in there?”

Eskel lowered her to her feet, the harsh crack of light that peered through sent his pupils to slits. He shifted slightly, tucking her into his chest.

“We got locked in.” Eskel ground out. He winced at the sound of his voice, rough with sex.

“What?” Lambert laughed. “That doesn’t explain why-“ A thunk sounded just outside the door, the sound of a palm hitting the back of someone’s head, “Geralt, what the fuck?” Eskel silently thanked him for sparing them the embarrassment of being caught in a rather provocative lover’s embrace.

“Doors open now.” Geralt spun on his feet and stalked away, footsteps fading down the hall, dragging a smirking Lambert behind him.

Eskel sighed, feeling as if he was just rudely awoken from a beautiful dream. He looked down at her, she had one hand clasped over her mouth in embarrassment.

“Can we take this to my room?” Eskel asked, pulling her to him by her waist.

“You would like that?” She gazed up at him, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, which Eskel was beginning to believe the habit wasn’t just something she did when she was nervous.

“I would.”

#the witcher #eskel #tw3 #whahdhjsjdndjsfjjd not me reblogging my own fanfiction #anyways #cursed amulet voice READ IT

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