dragonlady7

the witcher

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Yeah there was supposed to be another scene and some stuff and I just could not make it work and this is what we have instead, and I meant to do another editing pass and then spent three days not getting to it and you know what. you know what. sometimes 2022 is about surviving it and sometimes you just have to go with what you have and that’s what we’ve got here.

so uhhhh they fuck, and then the chapter ends with the end of the scene, and i’m just gonna cut the story there.

chapter 6, on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/35008744/chapters/90986938

Iorveth’s hair was a bit of a disaster; it had been lovingly braided for him before he left Vergen, but it had gotten frazzled in the traveling and he’d needed to comb it out to be presentable for dinner, or as close as it could get in its current state. Removing the eyepatch had disarranged it even from that semblance of order, and it was probably a mess now.

“Getting long,” Roche observed, which was ridiculous, it was barely any longer than last time he’d seen it. But then, he’d never seen it loose.

“I stopped cutting it,” Iorveth commented dryly, meaning to draw a line under what a banal observation that had been.

“Yes, that would explain it,” Roche said, rolling his eyes a little.

“I hadn’t cut it by choice,” Iorveth said.

“It just got shorter on its own?” Roche guessed, and Iorveth kept his face straight rather than express his amusement at how little being annoyed seemed to affect Roche’s arousal levels. He wasn’t here to be made sweet love to, was the thing, and while he was enjoying this, he also didn’t want to talk about how his hair had gotten cropped off.

“Yes,” he said, “Aen Seidhe hair retracts,” and Roche laughed.

“Should I pull on it?” he said, and slid his fingers through it. He was careful, and didn’t catch any snarls.

“Don’t,” Iorveth said, a little sharply. They’d– torn it out in handfuls– he’d forgotten that detail but now–

Roche let go, and stroked a thumb across Iorveth’s undamaged cheekbone instead. He probably was seeing too much in Iorveth’s expression. That wasn’t good. Iorveth tried to get himself together to take charge again. That was how it worked, with them, he was in charge, and that was how it had to be, because if he wasn’t in charge he was back in that– that awful–

“We have enough stupid myths about Elves without you single-handedly compounding the number,” Roche said, drawing his fingers along the edge of Iorveth’s jaw. “Never stop growing, hah.”

“Maybe I’m telling the truth,” Iorveth said, and considered biting his hand. (Your picture was not posted)