Lambert almost choked on his drink when Geralt walked into the kitchen, topless with hair wet and dripping onto the floor like he had the whole keep to himself.
“What?”
Geralt grabbed a mug to get himself water, looking at Lambert’s scandalised face.
“What do you mean, what? Cover yourself up, Pretty Boy, Gods. I’m trying to keep this drink down.”
He could see Geralt smirk as he got some water, and Lambert would be lying if the full image didn’t send a shiver down his body making his breath hitch. Geralt walked over to the table, standing over Lambert as he rolled his eyes.
“You don’t have to look you know.”
“I wasn’t- I mean I didn’t, I-”
Lambert flustered angrily until he eventually stood up, pushing past Geralt to go back to his room, knowing he’d answered too quickly. He slammed his door behind him, something that the rest of the wolves were familiar with. It was incredible that the hinges hadn’t broke by now.
He threw himself onto the bed with an aggravated sigh. Lambert hadn’t had many years on the path, and each time he came home, Geralt was the person he was most excited to see. But there wasn’t many of them left at the keep, and jeopardising their friendship between any of them was off the table, especially since Lambert had barely had a conversation with Geralt beyond their job, never mind admitting any feelings. So any time they were left alone, Lambert felt himself being short and angry with him, just so that he could keep it hidden. If everyone thought that it was down to him “just being Lambert” then that would have to be it.
Fully horizontal and face in the pillow, he heard a knock at his door. He sat up confused before asking them to come in. Geralt, fully clothed this time, thank Gods, with his hair messily tied up on the top of his head, peered round the door.
“Can I come in?”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
Lambert internally cursed himself when he saw Geralt’s face drop slightly. He stood awkwardly against the now closed door, playing with his hands.
“I didn’t um, mean to make you uncomfortable earlier.”
He looked up from his thumbs, making eye contact. Lambert’s stomach dropped seeing Geralt look upset. All he wanted to do was run over and say it was okay, but it would be “out of character”, ruin the persona he’d made up to keep him at arm's length.
“That it?”
It was pained, and something told him Geralt could sense it. The way he looked back. It was new.
“I, yeah, well, hmm. I’m sorry. You can look wherever you want it’s your keep too.”
Lambert drew in a quiet breath, the earlier image of Geralt imprinted in his head. Geralt definitely heard that.
“I told you... I wasn’t looking.”
The tension in the air grew awkward as both men’s voices became quieter. Silence in the room that was maybe seconds felt like minutes. Both of them anxious to hint at something and too worried to be the first.
“I know! I know. I just mean, if you were... looking... That would be... fine too. You don’t need to. Or have to. But you can keep your eyes any place you want. Is what I mean.”
Lambert broke the eye contact first, scratching at his neck trying to make any other sound than the sound of their hearts racing in the room.
“I- okay you said sorry I accept. Your keep, my keep, everyone’s fuckin’ keep. If I want to watch you cook dinner or stroke your fuckin’ dick it’s mine to look at, you made your point. Fuck, you take so long to speak.”
Geralt coughed like he’d choked on the air, hiding the fact his face was heating up at a rapid pace. The smell in the air of nervousness quickly turning to an embarrassing smell of arousal that neither Witcher could pretend wasn’t there. But they absolutely were going to.
“Good. Okay.”
Geralt turned round and made for the door, before pausing. He didn’t look at Lambert as he spoke, in fear of the response.
“Well... on that note... if you do want to... look, somewhere, in the near future, or not look. I might be in the stables in an hour. Okay bye. Sorry.”
And he left.
Lambert’s breath caught in his lungs as he stared at the empty space where Geralt stood. Fuck, okay, stables in an hour. Just to look.
An hour later, Lambert made his way down to the stables, his heart in his chest wondering what was going to happen next. He knew, or more, he knew what he wanted to happen next, but didn’t want to jinx it. He wasn’t sure if he was cold or nervous, but the hairs were definitely standing on end all over his body. He reached out to open the door of the stables before panic overtook him. What if this was all a joke? What if he got in there and him and Eskel were waiting to laugh at him for turning up? He wiped his nervous hands on his trousers and remembered the scent in the room from earlier. There was no faking that. This was real, and it was happening.
As silently as he could, he wandered into the stable. It was a large space that smelled of wood, hay and their horses. But beyond that, faintly, he could smell that smell again. Geralt. He almost couldn’t walk, the anticipation overwhelming. He moved up the middle of the stalls, trying not to disturb the horses which would alert Geralt of his presence too quickly. He wanted to assess the situation first. As he got nearer the back, the smell grew stronger, but it wasn’t the smell that convinced him of what was happening. It was the small, back of the throat whine that was only for Lambert to hear. He almost doubled over, the muscles at the bottom of his stomach tensing as his cock twitched in his trousers. Oh fuck. Real. This was real. He moved into the stall adjacent to the back room, a room filled with equipment for farming and for the horses. He pressed his back against the wall so that he couldn’t be seen, but could see through the small window on the wooden wall separating them, and looked.
There, amongst the bales of hay scattered on the floor, Geralt lay with his trousers round his ankles. An awkward leg up as far as it could go with the way his clothes were, and a hand wrapped round his cock. His head was tilted back with his eyes squeezed shut, and his mouth slightly open. The kitchen scene quickly forgotten as this image was burned into his brain immediately. He watched him, holding his breath for as long as he could, trying not to make a sound. He couldn’t trust himself to even exhale. He wondered what Geralt was thinking of, studying Geralt’s face as it twisted and beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his white hair that had fallen from the earlier knot at the top now sticking to his face in glorious curls. It became apparent fairly quickly what he was thinking about as “Lambert...” fell from his lips.
Lambert let all of his breath go at once and he stumbled forward, the hay underneath him crunching louder than if a horse had taken some in its mouth and shouted “YUM!”
Geralt opened his eyes but didn’t turn his head, his chest rising as he filled his lungs with excited air.
They both stilled, panting. Lambert steadied himself again and watched as Geralt closed his eyes, settling back further into the hay. He ran a thumb over his cockhead making his back arch before biting his lip, then with a long sigh, went back to stroking himself. Lambert put one hand on the wall, his breath now steaming up the glass as he used his other hand to undo his own trousers. The feeling of taking himself in his hand being a relief to his whole body. He copied the older wolf’s pace, watching his hand and imagining it round his own cock. The maddening speed that Geralt was going at was almost making him whimper, but he wasn’t ready to let himself make noise yet. Geralt took his other arm out from under his neck, and trailed his hand down his torso, lifting his shirt slightly at the bottom as he moved up inside. Lambert couldn’t see since he was still clothed, but the rise of his knuckles over his chest and the bucking of his hips when the movement was made was indication enough. Lambert’s head fell forward onto the glass as he couldn’t help but go faster.
After both of them picked up speed, their moaning grew louder too, neither witcher trying to hide the enjoyment of what was going on. The wooden wall beneath Lambert’s fingers now hand 5 little dents in it from his nails digging into it. He could feel himself coming close, but he had to wait, he wanted to see Geralt first.
Geralt lowered is free hand again, this time moving down to cup his balls as his stomach muscles convulsed at a rapid rate. He lifted his head to look down before throwing it back again, unable to keep himself steady. His legs were spread now, both knees wide as he bucked up into his hand. Lambert watched him pause for a minute then gulped. He stared, with wide eyes as Geralt gathered some of the pre-cum that was running down his cock, and proceeded to move his hand in between his legs. From the angle Lambert was at, he couldn’t be sure, but Gods, the way Geralt started moving again he was pretty certain.
Lambert watched as Geralt’s thighs started to tense. His jaw went wide as he arched his back and neck, pressing his head as far back as it would go. Lambert wanted to see everything, moving quickly from Geralt’s squeezed shut eyes and his shaking jaw, down to his cock that was shooting ropes of cum onto his shirt. Before he collapsed back onto the ground, Lambert couldn’t hold himself back any longer. As the cum pulsed onto the wall in front of him, he mouthed Geralt’s name over and over again, trying as hard as he could to keep his eyes open and look at the fucked out white wolf in his post orgasm haze.
As he started to calm down, barely able to stay standing on his shaky legs, the mess on the wall and the steamed-up window brought him back to reality. He laced his trousers back up and waited for a moment. Both of them as anxious as they were in Lambert’s room before. Lambert quickly bolted out of the stable before Geralt stood up.
He ran back to his room, slamming the door behind him, only this time, he stood with his back against the wall. A million images running through his mind, unable to focus on each one, before like earlier, his door was chapped. Only this time, Lambert answered it.
He opened the door to Geralt, out of breath and wide eyed.
“Can I-”
Was the only words that came out before Lambert surged forward, pulling him in for a kiss. Geralt wrapped his arms round him, as they nervously tasted each other for the first time.
When they broke apart, Lambert smiled with his kissed red lips.
“What?”
“You’re looking at me.”
Both of them laughed before Lambert pulled him into his room, closing the door behind them both.
