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on-a-lucky-tide · 9 months

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(Aiden/Lambert; a small dedication to the beautiful artwork by @elmonstro that was one of the first things to greet me when I opened the "witcher Lambert" tag after so long away. Cheers, bud. Rated: T.)

“—so, there we were, Gaetan stuck with his arse in the fence, Joel had cast Somne on the cock—hurr, hurr—cockeral, and—“

Beneath the branches of a gnarled old tree, Lambert and Aiden found respite from the midsummer heat. The sun played hide-and-seek through the verdant leaves as they swayed idly in the breeze, casting a dance of light and shadow over the forest floor. With naught but the rush of the waterfall behind them and the warm lilt of Aiden’s voice, Lambert all but forgot the world beyond their little patch of paradise. He was only half listening to the actual words; Aiden could be listing the anatomical parts of a drowner dick for all Lambert cared, as long as he kept talking, and gesticulating, and laughing. Like that. Just like that.

Lambert quirked both eyebrows and hummed a non-commital acknowledgment of the story as Aiden progressed onto the details of how they extracted Gaetan’s backside from the fence.

Lambert and Aiden had met just outside Vattweir, heading west along the main path through the Kestrel Mountains. Aiden had just finished up a routine dog clearance–slim pickings this time of year, when even monsters shirked the heat in favour of their gloomy lairs, tunnels, and hideaways–and Lambert had been hoping to pick up some escort jobs with local merchants. Any thought of coin had evaporated the moment he had heard Aiden’s familiar bray from across the meadow.

Instead of turning back to town, they had decided to find some peace in the mountains. There was only so much human stank and fuckery Lambert could take in one go, and he’d reached his limit a whole two contracts ago. The wilderness was a welcome relief. The cacophony of humanity replaced by the subtle hum of nature. But only idiots left the trail at the height of ‘bandit season’ to go for a swim in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, even a witcher. Yet, when Aiden had insisted, Lambert had been powerless to resist. At Aiden’s side, Lambert felt invincible. Just the two of them against the world.

What they had–shit, Lambert couldn’t name what they had. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. When he looked at Aiden, he felt a swell of something soft and gooey in his chest, his skin prickled, his toes tingled. Why did his fucking toes tingle? He had no idea. They just did. It was Aiden. Always Aiden.

It didn’t matter what mood he was in when Aiden found him–angry, miserable, despondent, wounded–within hours, Aiden would have him laughing, smiling, patched up. They would share a brew, a rabbit haunch, and swap stories like two old girls gossiping over a wash basin. But that wasn’t even the best part was it? N,aww. The best part was when they rested their heads down, side by side, and watched the stars.

In those moments, they would talk in hushed whispers about the world beyond the Path, like if they talked too loudly, their Masters would appear to steal the dreams and the hopes from their heads and throw them to the monsters. Vesemir, old dog. He’d have an absolute shit-fit if he knew. Lambert could hear him drone now, Stars are for tracking, boy, not dreaming. Get your head out your arse. Lambert might have agreed two years ago.

Not now though.

Now he looked heavenward and saw Aiden.

The hushed dreams they shared of a future where they could become more, the glisten of mirth in his eyes when Lambert was especially vulgar, the corners crinkled, cheeks dimpled, and now the drying droplets on his skin, shimmering like diamonds as they ran in rivulets with every one of his twitches and flails.

With Aiden’s head on his thigh, Lambert had the perfect view of it all. Well, not all. They had pulled their trews on for comfort after the dip; he didn’t much fancy chancing fighting off an ambush with his dick out. (“There’s always a chance”--”Fuck, Bertie, you could knock ‘em clean out with that cudgel you’re packing, I really wouldn’t worry.”) And now Lambert was somewhat regretting his caution, his eyes wandering from the gleam of Aiden’s chest to the line of his waistband, and–

“You’ve not listened to a plowing word I’ve said, have you?”

“Huh?” Lambert blinked, and rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, Gaetan’s arse… Joel Somne’d the…”

“You absolute bellend. I was just getting to the good part.” Aiden threw his hands up in exasperation, the knife he had been twiddling through slender fingers falling to the forest floor with a dull thud. “Fine, if my offerings aren’t intellectual enough to entertain Master Lambert, he can come up with a story of his own for the masses.” Aiden gestured to the peaceful emptiness of the forest before flopping both palms onto his belly, and Lambert huffed a wry laugh.

“Ahh, I’ve got nothin’ you haven’t heard a million times,” Lambert said, “tell me again, I’ll listen this time. Promise.”

“Oh yeah? You won’t get distracted by whatever’s brewing in that thick skull of yours.”

A hint of a smirk quirked at the corner of Lambert’s mouth, and Lambert watched as Aiden’s pupils blew a little wider. Probably one of the few people on the Continent who looked like that whenever he was faced by Lambert’s sardonic attitude. Lambert reached out to brush a lock of dark hair from Aiden’s forehead. “Can’t make any promises, but I’ll try my best.”

“Soppy fuck,” Aiden mumbled, lower lip pushing up in a brief pout before his hands lifted into the air again. “So, as I was saying, we heard about this alderman–”

Lambert closed his eyes and leaned back against the old tree, allowing himself to float in the sounds of the forest and the gentle lull of Aiden’s voice. Maybe his lot wasn’t so bad after all.

#witcher lambert #witcher aiden #lambden #laiden #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #fic dedication

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geraskierficrecs · 3 months

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An Offer You Can't Refuse Update!

Hey look! I finally finished it!

Teaser:

Geralt’s lips were still cracked from the heat of the fire and they opened painfully on a near-silent word. Immediately, Jaskier turned toward the tray of food Aiden had delivered to retrieve a bottle of water. He gently helped Geralt raise his head from the pillow and guided the bottle to his lips, supporting him there as he drank deeply. After a moment, Geralt turned his head away in a silent feature and Jaskier quickly set the water aside in favor of getting the alpha resettled on the pillows.

The other wolf licked his lips and attempted to clear his throat from the smoke still lining it. “You’re here.”

Jaskier blinked, startled at the unexpected direction of Geralt’s thoughts. He shifted his weight, trying to anticipate what Geralt meant by it. “I…yes,” he said, “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

It was a dangerous sort of admission. Far too close to acknowledging the bond that had been driving them together for weeks.

Geralt frowned at him and Jaskier felt his nerves turn into a wild thing, twisting and writhing within him.

He should have left while he had a chance. He should have allowed Lambert to oversee Geralt’s healing. Anything to avoid the rejection he knew was coming. Anything to avoid hearing Geralt’s voice telling him to leave for good.

Jaskier leaned back to force himself to his feet, but froze when he felt Geralt’s calloused hand wrap around his wrist in a gentle shackle.

All at once, he was terrified. Terrified that perhaps it wasn’t love that moved within his chest each time he saw Geralt staring back at him. That this love would become a knife twisting within his heart, sinking deeper with each new breath until death became the only release he could ever hope for.

In this moment, Geralt held the means to his destruction in a way Emhyr and Cahir never had. A single word, a single syllable could erase every scrap of battered hope he possessed. He stood at the precipice of calamity with one person holding on to the rope that kept him from sinking into the abyss. He was–

Geralt’s fingers tightened around Jaskier’s fluttering heartbeat and his thumb swept over the delicate skin in a caress that made Jaskier shiver. The alpha stared at Jaskier and his mouth shaped the word that made Jaskier’s wolf go quiet.

“Stay.”

#geraskier #angst #geraltxjaskier #my stuff #geralt x jaskier #angst with a happy ending #geralt/jaskier #badass jaskier #feral jaskier #modern au #werewolf au #werewolf mates #werewolf jaskier #werewolf geralt #lambert/aiden #aiden/lambert #completed story

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solcorvidae · 6 days

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Hey Sol! from the soft fic prompt meme, 9. shoulder kisses? (maybe during a comforting hug, or whatever you want <3)

Hi friend!! Thank you for always sending in so many prompts, I love it. Your ideas and headcanons about these two are always so good whenever we talk :D This one got away from me a bit... it's almost ten times as long as I initially planned, but I had a lot of fun playing around with it this week!

Prompt: shoulder kisses (+ comfort) Ship/Characters: Past Lambert & Volthere, Aiden/Lambert Word Count: 1726 words

Fic below and on AO3

Stray Dog (Yours, Until)

It was one of those dreams he could never stop, or at least, that's what he told himself when he awoke from his sleep, disoriented and afraid.

Lambert's voice rang through his skull as he gasped for air and bit off the broken wail he let out, stifling it into a wordless plea. The sickly crunch of frail bones echoed in his mind as Lambert shuffled back against something he couldn't fully identify.

Checking his surroundings, Lambert first identified the waxy moon above him, its reflection weary in his frightened gaze. Slowly, he came to his senses, recognizing the stillness of their surroundings, barring the occasional rustle of a small prey animal nearby.

A hand reached out, pulling Lambert back onto the overlapping bedrolls. "It's just a dream, Lamb," the voice soothed, body shifting to accommodate the stiffness of Lambert's frame when he refused to follow.

With a sigh, the man sat upright so he was eye to eye with the trembling witcher. "Lambert, look at me," he said, demanding attention, momentarily halting the tears. Lambert looked him over cautiously as if confirming that he was really there before crumbling completely.

The sob that painfully clawed its way from Lambert's throat dampened as his head was guided awkwardly over into the crook of the man's neck. "Aiden," Lambert choked before he started to cough.

Aiden quickly let go of him, keeping a firm but gentle hand on Lambert's back, allowing Lambert to twist and hunch over painfully as a wave of panic-induced nausea washed over him. Lambert's coughing fit turned into pitiful retching as his mind floated back to the memories he desperately tried to keep at bay. Decades may go by, but seeing your best friend --another child-- die such a horrific death? It never leaves you. No matter the things Lambert has seen and done since the shrill screams of a child in pain never fail to make him sick.

"It's okay, Lambert. It's just a dream," Aiden repeated, waiting for Lambert's breath to steady.

His skin was sheen, but his body trembled under the gentle breeze. Lambert nodded, scrunching up his face and turned his back to Aiden. He didn't want to see the pitied expression he knew lived there. It was pathetic, really. Out of all the horrors he bore witness to, Lambert was bothered still by the Trial of the Medallion. No, he was bothered by the death of his classmates, his best friend.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Can I touch you?"

Silence.

"Lambert...?" When Lambert didn't respond, Aiden touched his arm, just above the elbow, feather light at first but growing more firm once he realized Lambert visibly relaxed into it. "Is this okay?"

He nodded. "Please don't go."

Aiden's heart shattered at the sound of Lambert's voice, heartbreakingly flat as if he expected Aiden to take his words as his cue to leave for good this time. "I'm not going anywhere, Lamb," he breathed, scooting closer to Lambert's bare back so they lay back-to-front, Lambert's arm trapping Aiden's against his body. Lambert pulled Aiden's hand against his sternum, shivering when the wind stole their body heat despite the blanket fighting valiantly to protect them from the outside world. They sat like that, in silence, for a long moment. Aiden's gentle breaths graced the back of Lambert's neck as he tried not to doze off in the silence between them; Lambert's lip began to quiver.

"Aiden?" Lambert asked, hating the way he sounded. A low rumble came as his answer. "How do you do it? How has all this not made you into a terrible person like it has me?"

It took everything in him not to say I'm not a good person, Lambert, so instead, Aiden chewed on his thoughts for a moment, thinking carefully about what he was to say next. The longer the silence stretched, the harder it was for Lambert to keep quiet. His throat and chest involuntarily spasmed as he tried to stifle a weak, choked-out sob.

"You've done some terrible things, Lambert..." Aiden began hesitantly, tightening his hold on the man before him, gently kissing the side of his hair just behind Lambert's ear. "But so have I. You are responsible for your actions, but you are not responsible for the things done to you. You hold so much grief," Aiden said, brushing his thumb across the back of Lambert's thumb, held close to his companion's warm skin. "No one can blame you for that."

Aiden could smell the salt in the air just as much as he could feel the tears roll off Lambert's cheek and onto his arm. Aiden was older than Lambert, remembering less of his childhood than the Wolf, losing it to time. For better or for worse, Aiden had accepted that. Lambert's brothers hardly remember their lives before they were subject to the trials, and he was even older, albeit not by much. The pair often forgot they weren't the same age with how they got on and how seamlessly they managed to fit into each other's lives since meeting in Ellander some years ago. It took them a while to trust one another fully, but the time was worth the company and the resulting sense of what some may call kinship, others something else. Their relationship was far too complex for something as confining as a friend or lover. It was undeniable that Aiden loved Lambert, as did Lambert love Aiden, but those words didn't have to be said and held too many connotations anyway.

Aiden kissed the scarred skin of Lambert's shoulder, allowing his lips to linger before pressing his forehead to the nape of his neck. "You are a product of your making, Lamb. Unfavourable reactions come from unfavourable situations."

Lambert let out a shuddering breath. "I can't remember his face, Aiden; I can still hear his screams. I'm so scared of losing the good memories-- fuck!" Lambert hissed, rolling over and burying his face in Aiden's chest. "This is so pathetic. I can't believe I'm crying over something that happened almost two fucking decades ago."

Aiden held a firm hand over the crown of Lambert's hair, gently combing through the damp strands that lived there. "You don't have to remember his face to have those memories. I hardly remember Kiyan anymore. We grew up together, you know?" Aiden paused to leave another kiss with Lambert, his temple this time. "He disappeared one summer, and I never found out what happened to him. He's probably dead, but I sometimes hope he's gone off somewhere and retired instead. He's from a cohort from a few years prior, yeah?"

Lambert furrowed his brow in confusion against Aiden's exposed skin. "You talk about him all the time. Maybe you're going senile," he joked weakly.

Aiden let out a puff of air that resembled a small laugh. "What did you and Volthere get up to when you weren't training?"

"You are going senile," said Lambert, the hurt slowly dissolving from his tone.

"Humour me."

"We would roughhouse with the other boys if we had the energy. In our quarters, we would set up the room after our instructor did his last check-in for the night."

"Vesemir?"

"No, another old bastard put in charge," Lambert replied, receiving a gentle smack to his arm. "When I received my swords alone without the only other boy who made it out of Old Speartip's cave, another face who I never took the time to know and never got the chance to after we were pit against each other during the Trial of the Sword, I remembered our plans, me and Volthere. Late at night, way after the other trainees were well and dreaming, we huddled under the covers to block out most of the moonlight and just talked."

As Lambert spoke, Aiden's eyes rounded out even more than they needed to be to see in the low moonlight. Lambert paused at the familiarity before continuing. "We always had this stupid idea that once we were both given our swords, we would head off on our own for a few months before meeting up again in Kaedwen. There used to be a tavern and inn on the corner on the south side." Aiden smiled knowingly but didn't interrupt. "We planned to meet there a few months after the first thaw and travel as a pair. On the Path, we wouldn't be under monitor like corpses who caught the attention of a stray hawk. Nothing could stop us from doing so, but we feared what would happen if Vesemir or our other instructors found out later that winter. We would stagger our arrival back to Kaer Morhen by a few days to avoid raising suspicions or causing grief."

Aiden was fending off sleep with minimal success as his limbs weighed heavily and draped over Lambert's body. The rustling of the trees and the steady, shallow breaths dancing across Lambert's scalp lulled him back into a sense of safety and familiarity. In a display of Herculean effort, Lambert cupped Aiden's cheek and kissed him tenderly, his nose pressed into the soft skin that remained bare beside his callused thumb. "You better not leave me," he whispered, afraid to even say it out loud. It was only a matter of time before he would lose him too: it was in his nature.

Lambert, the last and youngest witcher of the Wolf School, was a man whose birth was considered a loss, so it was only natural that loss continued to define his life in every moment that followed. Lambert knew this deep down, but he refused to acknowledge it. He knew that the moment he loved something was the moment his destiny would override everything. Lambert was a man whose destiny was defined and shaped by none other than what he stands to lose.

"I'll be here as long as you'll have me," Aiden replied, voice thick with the pull of sleep.

Maybe this time will be different.

"I hope you'll have me for just as long."

"You know what they say," Aiden murmured, teetering on the edge of sleep.

"Hm?"

"If love could save, I think I'd live forever."

Lambert paused for a moment to let the feeling wash over him. Yeah, maybe it will be different after all.

"I think so, too."

[Title: "Stray Dog" by Amigo The Devil--go listen to it👀]

#the witcher fanfiction #lambden #lambert/aiden #aiden/lambert #lambert x aiden #aiden x lambert #<- all the tags bc I can #lambert witcher #aiden witcher #voltehre #voltehre witcher #Lambert & Volthere #☀️#ask game #soft fic ask game #sol scribbles

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duskfallsfang · 1 year

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#lambden #laiden #the witcher #tw3 #the witcher 3 #lambert the witcher #aiden the witcher #aiden/lambert #lambert/aiden #its for science actually #theres only one correct answer ill tell you that much #its aiden. aiden is taller.

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0dde11eth · 8 months

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Aiden and Lambert have some unconventional kinks. For example: they enjoy knife play and consider the following to be flirty foreplay:

@help-help-i-need-an-adult

#my nonsense #aiden #lambert #laiden #lambden #aiden x lambert #aiden/lambert #lambert x aiden

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dahliavandare · 10 months

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#the witcher #witcher #fanfic #canon vs fanon #poll #andrzej sapkowski #witcher aiden #sam the baker #kaer morhen #Kaer Morhen hot springs #aiden/lambert

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shy-urban-hobbit · 4 months

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"Whatcha doing, bard?"

Jaskier startled slightly when Aiden plopped down beside him next to the fire, eyes bright with the beginnings of drunkenness as he offered the wine he was holding. Jaskier took a swig straight from the bottle, choking a little in surprise. After the roughness of the various homebrews and the wines that had been aging in the cellar for possible decades it was sweeter than he expected. Definitely Southern.

"Just thinking. You?"

The Cat let out a dramatic sigh, leaning against Jaskier, "Lambert's ignoring me and it's making me sad."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure he's not."

"Oh?" Aiden cocked an eyebrow before taking a deep inhale, "Hey, Lambert!" He called over to where Lambert was deep in conversation with his brothers (and had been all night). "I'm not wearing any underthings and I fingered myself stupid while thinking of you earlier!"

"Yeah, that's fine Kitten." Lambert answered with a dismissive wave of his hand without even looking over as if Aiden had just told him that he was going to go grab more booze.

Aiden smirked at Jaskier as if to say 'see?', "And from the look on your face you know exactly what I'm talking about, no?"

Now it was Jaskier's turn to fill his lungs, "Oh Geralt!" He singsonged, "I just spilled sweet dessert wine all over my naked body. Want to help me get cleaned up? I'm so sticky and messy!"

Geralt gave one of his classic, non-committal grunts in response.

"Oh, sweet Gods." Jaskier took another angry mouthful before thrusting the bottle into Aiden's chest, ignoring the Witchers chuckle, "I understand he wants to spend time with his brothers but we haven't had any alone time for two weeks! He's either involved in some group activity or we're both too tired after training or chores."

"Hmm."'Aiden hummed in agreement, taking a deep swallow of the wine, "As much as I like Geralt and Eskel and how close they all are, there's certain activities I don't want them involved in." His expression turned devilish, "Want to do something about it?"

"...I'm listening."

Aiden crooked his finger in a beckoning gesture, prompting Jaskier to lean in closer so he could whisper in his ear as if the other Witchers in the room were actually paying attention to them.

"Fucking Hell!"

When he'd decided to call it a night and join Aiden in bed, the last thing Lambert had been expecting was to stumble on his Cat and Geralt's bard locked in a heated kiss at the top of the stairs, Jaskier's hands leisurely roaming over Aiden's back, whimpering when the Witcher moved his attentions from the bard's mouth to his throat. It was only when Geralt's telltale growl reached his ears he lifted his head, languidly turning to look at the two unsuspecting voyuers. Both Wolves looked an entertaining combination of aroused and annoyed. Mostly aroused.

Aiden purred internally. Perfect.

"Well, this is what happens when you forget about us." He said with an exaggerated pout, which Jaskier matched as he wrapped his arms around Aiden's neck, attempting to give Geralt his most pathetic look.

"I've never felt so neglected in my life." He whined, something Geralt knew definitely wasn't true but he decided to play along once he realised neither Jaskier or Aiden smelt even vaguely of arousal, despite their previous position.

"Oh, don't worry Lark." He growled as he stalked forwards, Aiden having the forethought to hurriedly disentangle himself, "I'm about to make sure you're very well taken care of."

Jaskier gave a yelp of surprise which turned into a laugh as Geralt threw him over his shoulder before stalking away towards his room. Jaskier grinned widely as he threw a salute to Aiden before they disappeared around the corner.

Before he realised what was happening, he found himself in Jaskier's previous position. Boxed in against the stone wall with Lambert's chest pressed against his, "That was your idea, wasn't it?"

It wasn't really a question and it was pointless to try and lie, "Yes." Aiden said, meeting Lambert's gaze, gasping in surprise when the Wolf ducked his head and started nuzzling at his neck.

"And you honestly feel the same?"

"...Yes."

Lambert let out a rumble, the meaning of which Aiden couldn't quite discern as he nipped at Aiden's pulse.

"So." Aiden prompted, squirming a little, "You going to make it up to me, or punish me?"

"Depends. How serious were you being about the no underthings?"

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pherryt · 5 months

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Cliffs of Insanity

Witcher with Princess Bride elements. If you couldn't tell from the title. Written for the Witcher Flash Fic ( @thewitcherflashfic )

Rating: T Words: 6935 Ships: Aiden/Lambert, Gaeten/Letho Summary:

When Aiden gets a message from a brother that they're going after a Wolf, he panics.

Also, I can definitely blame @ialwayscomewhenyoucall for this one, though it didn't take QUITE the direction I originally planned when i talked out ideas.

#witcher #aiden/lambert #gaeten/letho #princess bride #man in black aiden #princess buttercup lambert #i had a lot of fun with this one #witcher flash fic #prompt image #firstly before i went the princess bride route this image reminded me of a previous flashfic where i used screenshots from TAD's King #to make a collage

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elmonstro · 1 year

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WIP 🚧

Help I have fallen for Lambert/Aiden and I can’t get up. I need 12664746 stories of them going on adventures and growing their relationship… I just love their (almost) completely made up dynamic. If anyone has any fic rec please share! 🙏

Unsure about Aiden’s design, I just love every interpretation of him I’ve seen out there <3

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geraskierficrecs · 5 months

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An Offer You Can't Refuse Update!

New chapter here!

Teaser:

“What do I do?” Peter asked, hovering in an anxious cloud over Jaskier’s shoulder.

It took him two tries to find his voice rasping in his throat after such a long silence. “Hold him,” he told him. “I need to get it out.”

His hands shook as he tore through the thin fabric of Geralt’s shirt to expose the wound. Once upon a time, he imagined the feral sort of satisfaction of being able to touch the alpha so freely, but never under these circumstances. The strength that usually simmered beneath the surface of his skin was faint now, barely a ripple across what was once a great sea. Jaskier’s fingers traced over the fluttering pulse at the base of Geralt’s neck and gave himself exactly one moment to steady himself against his mate before he did what needed to be done.

“Don’t let him move too much,” Jaskier said. “This will hurt him.”

Peter’s eyes were wide and beginning to glaze with shock, but the younger wolf didn’t flinch away from what they were about to do. He swallowed hard and braced himself over the alpha, pinning his arms to the wooden floor.

Jaskier took a breath and whispered too softly for Peter to hear, “I’m sorry.”

Then he began to cut.

#geraskier #angst #geraltxjaskier #my stuff #geralt x jaskier #angst with a happy ending #geralt/jaskier #badass jaskier #modern au #feral jaskier #mafia au #werewolf au #werewolf mates #lambert/aiden #aiden/lambert #hurt/comfort

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on-a-lucky-tide · 2 years

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(Aiden/Lambert, game canon, washing, tenderness, hand job, dry humping, subtle "oh" moment, part of a longer work)

“Gonna wash me, wolf pup? Fuckin’ hell, the stories didn’t do Kaer Morhen hospitality justice.”

Lambert smirked and shoved Aiden in the shoulder. “Shut your face and sit the fuck down. I didn’t bring you here so the old man could break your back on the walls, but you went and did it anyway. I, just–sit.”

There was a new agitation in Lambert’s posture. He rubbed the back of his neck and the frown lines deepened. Shit, Aiden didn’t mean to be difficult. Just engage in their usual banter. Instead of pushing anymore, Aiden sat on the end of the bench near one of the carved drainage gutters, and placed his hands in his lap. They really were fucked. Nothing a dose of Swallow and a nap wouldn’t fix, but…

Lambert filled the bucket a little further, and Aiden heard the clatter of a ladle and the rustle of his own washkit as Lambert pawed through its contents. In the next breath, Lambert had straddled the bench, the heat of his body pressed up close, his thighs bracketing Aiden’s hips. A warm palm rested speculatively on the side of Aiden’s face, and he tilted his head back under the lightest pressure. Lambert’s touch left a phantom sensation in its wake, like light beneath Aiden’s skin, and he bit back a small, startled noise.

Aiden let the tension melt from his body as the water poured through his hair. “If all it took was a bit of building work to get this kinda treatment, I’d have picked up a mallet sooner.”

“Not like you can rely on your flirting skills. I've had better game from a bruxa.” Lambert dropped the ladle back into the bucket, and Aiden’s nostrils flared at the faint scent of soap lathering in Lambert’s palms. The feel of Lambert’s fingers pushing over his scalp sent sparks over Aiden’s shoulders and set a heaviness behind his eyes that he didn’t fight; they slipped closed with a contented sigh.

“Jealousy isn’t a good look, Lam-butt,” Aiden said softly, but the edge of mischief was missing from his tone. Lambert’s thumbs were rubbing circles at the back of his skull and it felt truly divine, until he tugged a soapy lock of hair in retribution.

"Yeah, cause I haven't heard that one a million times in the last fifty fucking years."

Lambert's hands disappeared to the ladle, pouring fresh water over Aiden's head until all the suds had vanished from his hair, and then returned with the pleasantly coarse fibres of a sponge. It wasn't from Aiden's kit, but one of Lambert's own, Aiden realised. Lambert applied a perfect pressure, sensitive scars prickled with sensation, sore muscles relaxing to softness under the wide, practiced circles that tracked over Aiden's shoulders and neck.

Lambert worked lower, following the valley of Aiden's spine to the small of his back. A gasp pushed past Aiden's lips as Lambert reached the crest of his arse, sensitive skin rippling with pleasure. His cock had been slow to show interest, although it sat half hard between his thighs from the feel of Lambert's hands in his hair, but the intimate touch quickened his pulse. Aiden felt his heart thump in his chest, and spread his thighs to ease the tension between his legs.

There was no point hiding. Lambert would rib him. Aiden had woken up hard before, and his body reacted so readily to simple touches; a palm at the small of his back, a pat on his knee. He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him without payment, and even then it was cursory and professional. Nothing more than what needed to be done. Lambert's touches were lingering, leaving behind that same blushing light in Aiden's skin, and Aiden felt a swell of jittery energy build in his stomach.

As Lambert leaned forward to run the sponge beneath Aiden's arms, following the curve of his bicep and elbow down to his wrist, Aiden felt the heat of Lambert's chest press to his back. This close, each of Lambert's shuddering breaths puffed on Aiden's damp skin, and his movements became less certain. Aiden made himself pliable, arms turning under the slightest pressure.

It was the most intimate Aiden had ever been with another person, the excitement thrummed like molten gold through his veins, but with it came a barely contained desperation. He wanted to arch into Lambert's hands, to push his body into the source of his pleasure, but he balanced on the edge. His best friend, his only friend, sat behind him holding his breath. Lambert reached the wrist of his left arm, he paused.

Knowing how close Lambert's lips were, imagining how they would feel against his shoulder, like a brand, so powerful they would leave a mark, Aiden's cock was completely hard. It strained upward against his stomach, Aiden's thighs flexing as he felt Lambert's answering interest pressing to the cleft of his arse.

"Aiden…" Lambert implored, his voice rough. He leaned his forehead to the back of Aiden's shoulder, and Aiden felt the flutter of his eyelashes as his eyes closed. The sponge fell away from Aiden's arm, sloshing into the bucket, and Lambert's soapy hands rested, shaking, at Aiden's hips.

They sat in stillness, their bodies hot and twitching, until Aiden reached for Lambert's hands and moved them gently to his chest, pushing strong fingers beneath curves of firm muscle.

Lambert sucked in a sharp breath. Aiden felt the flicker of those long lashes again, and a very pensive, "Yeah?"

A lot hung in the question. A single word. They weren't good with words, not when they were weighted with meaning. Sure, Lambert could spit vitriol and anger and Aiden had a sassy clapback for most one-liners, but this was different. When it mattered, they were both men of action, their bodies speaking for them when their mouths failed, but Aiden could force one more free from the pressure in his chest. "Yeah," he rasped, and then, for good measure, "Please."

Lambert gripped with a bone-deep groan. He shifted a little closer and circled his hands over Aiden's chest. Soap-slick palms pressed firmly, curious fingers wandering over Aiden's perked nipples and punching a gasp from Aiden's throat. His cock flicked enthusiastically when Lambert returned for another pass, and then again at the first kiss against the back of his shoulder.

Aiden arched into the massage over his chest, throbs of pleasure coiling in his groin. His head flopped back, his hips twitching as Lambert's hands swept down his abdomen to the soft skin of his inner thighs. Lambert tucked his chin over Aiden's shoulder and gazed down the slope of his body, pushing Aiden's legs apart. "Fuck, Lambert," Aiden gasped, burning with the need for Lambert to touch his prick. "Lambert, please."

Tender fingers curled beneath the heft of his balls and then followed the seam to the thick base of his cock. The warm circle of Lambert's grip made Aiden's hips buck, the curling pressure in his belly threatening to split him at the seams. Aiden panted as Lambert stroked his shaft, his grip perfect, motions slow and slick. He paused only to play across Aiden's cockhead, sliding the foreskin back and forth with a shuddering breath of excitement.

No one had ever touched Aiden with such reverence, their body humming in responsive pleasure against his own. Lambert was shivering with barely contained energy, like he had knocked back a Thunderbolt and hadn't expended it. His hand still working on Aiden's cock, Lambert poured clean water down Aiden's chest, washing away the soap suds clinging to Aiden's skin.

Aiden nearly whined when Lambert's hands left, followed by the absence of his body heat. He wandered to Aiden's front and Aiden's eyes settled on Lambert's full cock, standing tall from the dark curls of hair at his groin. Lambert was stunningly beautiful, his face open and desperately vulnerable, his body glistening in the low light of the springs. When he pushed a hand to Aiden's chest, Aiden fell back easily, his sore hands taking Lambert's waist as he leaned over.

Their first kiss was breathlessly gentle. Aiden had watched those lips for years, full, plush, shamelessly expressive. They were soft, so soft, and parted nervously for the tease of Aiden's tongue. Aiden could feel Lambert shaking, his body rocking between assertiveness and anxiety, unsure but desperate to proceed. So Aiden kissed him deeper, letting the pressure out in a low, longing moan that made Lambert gasp.

Aiden's hands slid down to bring their hips together and rock up, fingers sliding to grip Lambert's arse and urge him into a long, slow thrust. Lambert's arms shook, his grip white-knuckled on the edge of the bench. Aiden could feel the soft skin of Lambert's inner thighs against his hips, Lambert so exposed, so intimately bare, that it stole his breath away.

The slick, velvet-soft slide of their pricks was perfect, desperate, barely coordinated, everything; the weight of Lambert's balls pressed to the base of Aiden's prick, hot and tight. "You're close," Aiden whispered when their lips parted, his tone wondrous rather than teasing, as he rubbed his stubbled jaw against Lambert's beard. "Fuck, you're so close."

Lambert's head lifted and Aiden stared into glistening eyes, bottomless pupils ringed in a tiny lip of bright yellow. "You…" Lambert tried, his voice thick in his throat.

And suddenly, with a sharp clarity, Aiden realised why Lambert had wanted him here. In his eyes, Aiden saw the raw vulnerability wreathed with pleasure and relief. He had feared rejection and so he had brought Aiden to his home, hoping to find strength to take the final few steps.

Aiden had foolishly mistaken Lambert's hesitance for disinterest. Not unfriendly, but a boundary. A temporary one, by the gods, and Aiden wanted to give Lambert the world, because he had wasted so much time thinking he wasn't good enough. "Tell me what you need," Aiden said, his words like syrup in his mouth, thick and so sweet. He had never expected to ask Lambert, not like this, not with him so gloriously strung out.

A soft moan broke through Lambert's long, beleaguered exhale, and Aiden's grip tightened on Lambert's arse, urging him on. Lambert canted his hips info Aiden's grip and Aiden interpreted as best he could. Or rather, he caved to his own desire to touch, to feel everything Lambert kept guarded, and brushed his fingertips over the soft rim of Lambert's hole. The reward was another quiet moan, so Aiden continued to rub and circle as Lambert thrust their cocks together, but it was clear what Lambert yearned for.

#witcher lambert #witcher aiden #aiden/lambert #tw3 #lambden

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