Cold Nights

It had been a long night, and sleep was evading you. For hours you had tossed and turned and tried every remedy you could think of but something was keeping you awake. You looked over to the sleeping mass next to you, Geralt's snow white hair cascading in a tangled mass on the pillow. His slow breathing was a constant that usually lulled you to sleep. You snuggled your head into the nape of his neck, longing to be as close as possible to your beloved. Your bare legs intertwined as you draped your right arm over his.

"Quit touching me," you heard him grumble into the pillow, "Your feet are cold."

You smiled into the back of his head and interlaced your fingers with his, "You know you want it, sweetheart," you replied cheekily.

Geralt turned over to face you. "Maybe I do," he said, sleepily running a hand up the side of your body to your cheek, "maybe I'll never tire of you touching me." Gently, he pulled you in for a kiss, his lips soft and warm as they met yours. Your naked bodies pressed together, arms enveloping each other's neck and torso, your legs wrapped around his.

Soon you were one again, a tangled mass of two bodies, lovers who could only find warmth in the touch of each other's skin. When you felt him inside you there was no vigorous rut, just a soft pressure as you stretched to fit his growing member. A low, quiet moan rose from your chest as he filled every inch of you in slow, passionate strokes. "Think you'll sleep better with a cock in you?" Geralt said with closed eyes and a sly smile.

You nuzzled into his neck, "perhaps I'll keep you awake just a little longer."