Brrrpp. Ah-ah-ow. Brrr-oww. Mrrr. Brrrrp-ahh-ow.
Four days. They’d tracked this damned thing for four days. Letho was about to throw in the towel, take an easy assassination two towns over, gorge himself on food and then collapse in front of a fire somewhere for a long nap. But the keen glint of excitement in Gaetan’s eye had convinced him to press on. His little Cat was a small, fierce ball of energy when on a contract, and the post-hunt sex was never anything to sniff at. All that athletic muscle taut and glistening with sweat, and –
Focus, Letho.
Wyvern first. Dick later.
The beast had landed near a fast-flowing river for a drink; its first rest stop in about two hours. The two Witchers crouched in the underbrush, obscured by the long shadows cast by a setting sun. A well-placed knife would hamstring it long enough to –
“Brrp.”
Letho’s gaze snapped left and narrowed in on Gaetan. His Cat crouched low to the floor, his eyes swallowed by the expanse of his pupils as he eyed his prey. His mouth was clamped shut, his hand already curling around the hilt of the sword on his back, Letho looked away. Must be hearing things. Hunger always did funny things to his –
“Brrr-ooww.”
Definitely not hearing things. Letho hunkered down as the wyvern flicked its tail. “Gaeten,” he hissed. “What the fuck?”
“Sorry,” Gaetan grinned, sheepish. “Thrill of the hunt, y’know?”
“Thrill of the hunt?”
“S’murder chirp. For murder.”
“A murder ch - ?”
A low, rumbling growl distracted his attention. The wyvern’s wings flexed, its head tilted to the side. Listening.
“Ahh-ahh-brrrpp.” Gaetan chirped, practically shaking with coiled tension, and then sprinted from the brush. Letho only just managed to keep up with him. Between them, the wyvern didn’t last long. The agile kitty dodged beneath the swinging, barbed club of its tail and eviscerated it while Letho gripped its snapping jaws.
As the beast lay dead at their feet, Gaetan placed his sword at its side and turned to Letho. Two bloodied hands reached out to settle on the Viper’s chest and the Cat arched into a deep, contented stretch. His murderous instinct to hunt the flying thing appeased by their successful kill.
Letho hummed appreciatively. “You’re fuckin’ weird, you know that?”
“Mm,” Gaetan smirked, one pointed canine poking out from beneath his upper lip. “Wanna’ fuck?”
“More than anythin’ on the Continent,” Letho chucked his dual swords to the floor and scooped that small, toned form from the floor. Lithely muscled legs wrapped his waist as he carried his Cat towards a stout tree. What was a little murder chirping between lovers?