Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dinner isn’t bad.  Coën and Merek had killed a rather large boar and Geralt and Eskel helped Vesemir cook up a thick and hearty stew.  They all promised that Lambert had stayed far away from the kitchen and everyone had laughed as the red wolf sulked for a moment and mumbled under his breath.  “I only set the kitchen on fire twice.”

Eskel shakes his head, a smile lacing his scarred face.  “Three times.”

Lambert’s attention drops to the table and he breathes out.  “I didn’t think you knew about the last time.”

Eskel leans into Lambert’s space.  “Tolbert told me.  Said you spectacularly nearly blew half the keep up about a week before I got here.”

Lambert’s gaze flits across the table where the younger wolf sits, far too close to Vartok and not even trying to hide anymore.  He might as well be sitting in the other man’s lap as he leans over him to talk and laugh at something Merek says on Vartok’s other side.  Lambert’s eyes narrow and he leans on the table.  “Nosey little pups should keep things to themselves.”

Tolbert hears Lambert’s words, vaguely paying attention to their conversation as well as Merek’s newest crude joke.  He turns and sits back down on the bench.  He still keeps himself pressed too close and hard against Vartok’s side and as far as he can tell, the older wolf doesn’t mind.  Tolbert’s eyes narrow and he leans a bit on the table towards Lambert.  He smirks and tilts his head to the side.  “You’re like… what… five years older than me?”

“One.”  Eskel corrects and Lambert elbows him.  “What?  You’re both the youngest.”

Tolbert smirks and tilts his head.  He knows exactly how old Lambert is.  They were brought in at the same time, both so much smaller than the rest.  “He’s just mad he doesn’t look it.”  Tolbert says slowly.  “It’s not my fault you look like a decrepit old wolf.  All those frown lines.  You should really smile more.  Or… do you even know how to?”

Lambert lifts his hand and points a finger at him.  “You should shut your mouth.”

“Better watch out.”  Tolbert says cheekily.  “Eskel may dump you for someone who doesn’t look twice his age.”  Lambert growls and slams his hands down the table.  Tolbert rolls his eyes as he watches the way Eskel touches Lambert’s shoulder and the red wolf relaxes.  The youngest Witcher smirks and shrugs dismissively.  “You don’t scare me, Lambert.  I’ll just tell Eskel and he’ll make you… pliant, isn’t that the word you used?”

Eskel nods as he watches Lambert out of the corner of his eyes.  He knows the other wolf’s anger is just for show, just part of their brotherly ribbing.  Lambert always has to be the loudest.  Still, he keeps an eye on his red wolf just to make sure Tolbert isn’t pushing him past his limits.

“Because that’s what you like, isn’t it?”  Tolbert leans more over the table, dropping his voice and smiling at him.  “Eskel bossing you around and making you obey.  And misbehaving so he has to punish you.”

“Alright.”  Vartok grabs a handful of Tolbert’s shirt.  He hauls the younger wolf back off the table and pushes him back against the bench, in his own seat.  He keeps a firm hold of him as he leans closer.  “That is enough, pup.”  He growls lowly before releasing him and returning his attention to Merek’s next lewd joke.

Tolbert frowns and resists the urge to pout as he’s now made to sit a few respectable inches away from Vartok’s warmth and he wants to whine that the older Witcher had promised to keep him warm.  He breathes out sharply and he can feel Lambert’s gaze on him.  He knows the other wolf is smirking at him, looking just as cocky as Tolbert was a few moments ago.  He doesn’t need to look up to confirm it but he does anyway and he is right.  That shit eating grin spreads across the red wolf’s face and Tolbert sticks out his tongue.

Suddenly, Lambert bursts into laughter.  He leans back and shakes his head, unable to stop.  Eskel glances at him sideways again and raises an eyebrow.  But the scarred wolf quickly smiles and rolls his eyes and turns back to his conversation with Geralt beside him.  Lambert continues, shaking his head and rolling with laughter.  Tolbert tries to stop himself before he starts as well but he can’t and both of the youngest of the bunch are half lying on the table, gasping for breath.  After a few more moments, Lambert recovers first.  He breathes in deeply and leans his elbows against the table.  “Fuck, that felt good.”  He says, a genuine and relaxed smile on his face.

Tolbert smiles and he nods as he regains control of himself as well.  “See?  You should smile more.  You’re rather pretty when you do.”

Eskel catches the comment and turns.  He smiles as he looks at Lambert and nods.  “He’s always pretty.”

The red wolf huffs and blushes and pointedly looks at the table.  Tolbert resists the urge to poke the red wolf further.  He’s quite enjoying it and he thinks Lambert does as well.  They don’t get to see each other enough.  Just in the winter months and sometimes it’s only in the harshest weeks when the pass is closed.  They are all roamers at heart and cannot stay in place long.  They’re meant to walk the path alone.  Although, it does get lonely sometimes.  He prays for the times they cross paths.  He ran into Eskel once last year and they stayed together almost a week.  A few of the others here and there he met up with.  The longest was Geralt and they’d traveled together for nearly a month before Geralt received a message that his bard was waiting for him and they parted.  And he might have kept an ear out for any mention of Vartok so they could accidentally run into each other at least a dozen times.  It was never more than a day or two before the older Witcher left him and it was never long enough for him.  He longs to ask Vartok if they could remain together, if they could travel together.  If not for the whole year, then at least for longer than a quick fuck and a meal.

Dinner continues on, many conversations floating around the table as more stew is ladled and cups filled.  Some ribbing continues, bouts of laughter and a bit of tussling when Diever trips Hemrik on purpose and the result is Diever covered in ale.  All in all, it is an enjoyable evening, Tolbert thinks, as it winds down.  He offers to help when Eskel stands to clear the table and the two head to the kitchen, laden with bowls.  Tolbert lingers in the doorway for a moment when they finish and Eskel turns.

“Tolbert?”  Eskel steps closer, concern on his face and in his voice.  “Is something wrong?”

Tolbert shakes his head quickly.  “No…”  He tilts his head, thinking.  “Maybe… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.”  Eskel repeats.

Tolbert nods his head.  “It depends on you.”

Eskel steps closer, curious.  “Me.”

Tolbert nods and sighs.  “If I… if you think I… overstepped.  I don’t want to offend you and sometimes Lambert is hard to read.  I think we’re just playing around but if I’ve upset either of you…”

Eskel shakes his head and touches Tolbert’s shoulder, silencing him.  “You did not upset either of us.  Trust me.  You’re fine.  Lambert started it.  He can dish it out and he can take it.  And you were right.”  He says with a sly smirk as he steps back.  “Lambert does get off on me bossing him around.  He’ll do anything I tell him to do.”

Tolbert raises an eyebrow.  “Really?”

Eskel pauses and nods.  “Yes.  And you both will respect each other enough to know to back off before brotherly teasing becomes violent.”

Tolbert’s eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly.  “Never, Eskel.  I would never raise a weapon against a brother!”

Eskel raises an eyebrow.  “Except training with Vartok.”

Tolbert’s face flushes and he promptly steps around Eskel and heads back.  He slinks silently around the table and takes his seat.  He slouches a bit and breathes out.  Lambert is gone and so is Diever and Hemrik.  Vartok is still talking to Merek and Tolbert sighs.  Dinner is clearly done and Vesemir has let the others leave.

Vartok catches the younger Witcher’s posture and he turns.  He frowns and leans closer.  “What’s wrong?”

Tolbert glares sideways at him.  “Someone promised to warm me up.”  He hisses under his breath.

Vartok rolls his eyes and shakes his head.  He leans closer, his lips brushing against Tolbert’s ear.  "I am talking, little pup.  You will wait."  He says softly, feeding the words into his ear so no one else hears.  “Then I will warm up every inch of your body until you beg me to stop.”

Tolbert shivers as Vartok pulls away and returns to his conversation with Merek.  Tolbert’s mouth is dry and he’s certain he’s blushing even worse now.  He licks his lips slowly and swallows and fuck, that wasn’t fair at all!  Well, two can play that game.  He sits up and pulls his medallion off quickly.  He holds most of the chain in his hand and starts to spin the medallion around his finger.  When the slack runs out and it tightens around his finger, he spins it the other way.  And then he leans back and fumbles with it in his hand.  The medallion slips out of his grasp and clatters against the bench between his legs.  He glares at it for a moment before scooting forward a bit and knocking it to the floor where it clatters worse.

No one seems to be paying attention to him.  And he’s fine with that.  "Oops!"  He says to no one.  “I dropped my medallion on the floor.”  He turns and slides under the table easily enough.  It’s a tight fit.  He has to crouch rather uncomfortably but he doesn’t mind.  He’s glad Eskel and Lambert have left.  He wouldn’t have fit with them still sitting across from him.  He ignores his medallion completely as he leans closer to Vartok.  The older Witcher is leaning a bit on the table and turned more towards Merek.  And that will not do at all.  Tolbert slides closer and places a hand on each of Vartok’s knees.  He feels the man tense and stiffen.  Tolbert doesn’t give him a proper chance to react.  The younger Witcher pushes the man’s legs apart and runs his hands slowly down Vartok’s thighs.

Vartok had vaguely been paying attention to Tolbert.  He always is, whenever the younger Witcher is near.  He was listening to Merek but he was also listening to Tolbert.  He heard his axe Witcher drop his medallion, though why the pup was playing with it, he had no idea.  But he quickly realizes Tolbert’s intention when he feels the pup’s hands on him.  He tries to keep a straight face, tries not to move or flinch or alert Merek or any of their other brothers as to why Tolbert is under the table.  But then he feels the pressure on his crotch and yes, he knows exactly what is on Tolbert’s mind.

Merek laughs.  But Vartok is too far distracted to know why.  His mind has emptied in the last couple seconds and short circuited.  He nods and smiles and forces out a laugh and Merek seems fooled enough.  The other Witcher turns, says something to Geralt, and his attention is off Vartok.

A sharp exhale is emitted from Vartok’s chest as he leans back, just enough that he can look down.  And he catches Tolbert’s gaze.  The younger Witcher smirks up at him as he leans closer and rubs his cheek against his crotch.  He swallows and quickly leans forward against the table.  Vartok is not okay with this.  Well, he thinks he’s not.  He might be.  He’s actually not sure if he is or not.  But, he quickly realizes, he still hasn’t stopped the pup.  He’s not sure he can.  Not without alerting half of the room at least as to what the fuck is happening!  He clenches his jaw and forces a smile on his face when Merek’s attention is back on him.  And fuck, this is bad because no, he doesn’t want the pup to stop.

Tolbert pulls away, feeling a giggle in his throat.  He quickly covers his mouth and waits a moment as he struggles to suppress it.  He can’t let anyone hear him.  He breathes out and leans forward again.  He mouths at Vartok’s clothed length.  He licks the fabric and swears he can taste him as he feels the man’s cock twitch in interest.  And fuck, he considers going farther.  But this is something new, something very public and Tolbert doesn't actually want to get caught.  And he knows Vartok doesn't.  Just as quickly, he pulls away again and turns.  He reaches for his medallion as he quietly slithers back out from under the table.  He slips his medallion back over his neck as he stands and steps over the bench, as if nothing happened.  “I’m still cold and wet and I’m going to bed.”  He announces as he turns to retrieve his wet coat and then he heads towards the door.

Vartok breathes out stiffly and clenches his jaw.  He clenches his fists as well and presses harder against the table.  He fights his urge to chase after the younger wolf right that second and his cock protests.  But he doesn’t want to be rude and he’s pretty certain Merek is in the middle of some story… about a… deer?  Or a… hippo?  Did he mention a drowner in there somewhere?  And a… tangerine?

Merek rolls his eyes and shakes his head.  “Just go.  I know you want to follow him and you stopped listening to me a while ago.”

Vartok starts to shake his head and words of denial are on his tongue.  But Merek is right.  And he’s smirking at him.  Vartok sighs, nods, and stands.  “Sorry, brother.  I am sure it was a very compelling tale.”

Merek nods as he leans back.  “It was.  I will tell you another time, when you are far less distracted by our youngest brother.  Just… no more axes.”

Vartok rolls his eyes and pushes Merek right off the bench before he turns.  He can hear the man’s laughter as he races down the hall.