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It was not often that Geralt allowed him to play with his hair.
But then, it was not often that Regis truly felt like playing with the witcher’s hair, much as he enjoyed it in those rare instances when he felt both the desire and had Geralt’s permission to act upon it. A movement against his thigh made the higher vampire start, and his attention shifted away from his thoughts. Looking down, he smiled.
It was Geralt adjusting his head, supported by one of Regis’ legs. The witcher looked up suddenly, and amber eyes met black. His lover’s teeth were briefly revealed as Geralt was overcome by a rather large yawn.
“Why’d… you stop?”
‘Petulant’ is the only appropriate descriptor for that particular tone. Though I am sure Geralt would deny it, if I voiced this opinion, Regis thought wryly. He chuckled, somewhat self-deprecatingly. “I am sorry, my dear, for interrupting your daily allotment of physical affection,” he began teasingly— Geralt snorted— “I became lost in my thoughts, as you are certainly aware that I am wont to do. Forgive me.”
“All’s forgiven. Just… get back to it,” the witcher murmured, sinking back against his vampire-headrest once more.
“Of course.” He resumed running his fingers through Geralt’s long, silky white locks, gently using the tips of his sharp nails to separate any lingering tangles which he found in them. Since his semi-retirement to the warm, agreeable climate of Toussaint, and, more specifically, the affable locale of Corvo Bianco, his lover’s health— including that of his hair— had drastically improved. The change was also at least somewhat due to his own care.
“Can feel you being smug about something from ‘ere, Regis. What is it?” Geralt muttered absently. His eyes were half-lidded, and his gaze, when it met the higher vampire’s, was hazy.
He smiled fondly down at his lover The witcher offered a precious, small smile in return. “I am merely observing that you— and your hair— seem much better off since your ‘retirement.’ This pleases me.”
Again, a snort. “I’m sure your mood has nothing to do with the fact that it was partly your work which helped make it so. And that I, for the most part, actually followed your advice for once.” Though the statement sounded harsh, Regis knew that it was not intended to be so. Settling into this— a romantic relationship— had taken some adjustment on both their parts.
He himself had not had a partner in… many years. Geralt had mostly had a turbulent on-and-off relationship with Yennefer. Though these days, they happily co-parented Cirilla and were more-or-less on friendly terms. The only other long-term relationship of Geralt’s which he could think of was the one he’d had with Triss Merigold; a no less turbulent pairing. So neither of them were prepared for the rather more domestic thing which had bloomed organically between them.
Geralt’s change in status from ‘active’ to ‘semi-retired’ had not helped matters either. Though Regis knew that the witcher did not truly regret it; even if Geralt loved him, the other man would not bend to Regis’ desires simply to please the higher vampire. And that was perfectly fine with him. Regis did not want a submissive partner, but an equal— something which he found in his dear friend, now-lover.
“Hm, that may be a part of it, I admit. As long as you can accept that I am satisfied that you are happy,” he agreed simply.
“Sure.” Regis briefly stopped petting his lover’s hair to run an affectionate hand down the side of his face. When the higher vampire’s hand reached Geralt’s chin, the witcher surprised him by capturing the wandering hand in his own. He held it for a moment, then pulled it to his mouth and kissed it. Regis had to awkwardly lean forward so as not to be tugged down atop his lover.
“My, my. Are we perhaps in the mood to—”
“No,” Geralt said, softly but firmly. He yawned again, blinking languidly. “This is fine for now. I’m tired.”
Regis smiled tenderly. “I can see that, my dear.”
“Hmm.” Geralt released his hand, and resumed his earlier position. So did Regis. And though his voice was nowhere near as melodious as their dear Dandelion’s, he started to hum something soft and low and sweet. The witcher’s eyelids soon closed again, but this time they did not reopen. Then Geralt’s breathing evened out, his muscles slowly relaxed, and went limp. Asleep at last.
Ever so slowly, and patiently, Regis extracted himself from beneath the weight of Geralt’s head, careful not to disturb his sensitive witcher. Once or twice, he had to pause, metaphorical breath held, as his lover stirred, brows briefly furrowing and then relaxing as he unconsciously picked up on Regis’ movements. Finally, the higher vampire was able to stand, and he took a moment to gaze fondly down at the witcher, who had begun to turn on his side and curl inwards as he slipped further into sleep.
Regis carefully picked Geralt up off of the chaise lounge, making sure that his lover’s head was safely cradled in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Then he made his way toward their bedroom, to tuck the witcher into bed. As Geralt’s slow breaths continued to puff against the sensitive skin of his neck, the higher vampire yawned slightly. Though Regis was not truly tired, it would perhaps be pleasant to join Geralt for a nap. That really did sound quite appealing.
Yes, I think I shall, he decided.

ImperialDragon Mon 15 Jun 2020 05:23PM UTC
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