Chapter Text
"Well fuck," Geralt said.
He stared at Roach in disbelief, hoping to the gods that he wasn't actually starting his heat in the middle of a fucking hunt right now.
His horse simply huffed, he couldn't tell if it was in agreement or an admonishment for ignoring the slow oncoming ache and the... wetness. But he thought that had been a result of wading through low salty marsh waters to reach the sands.
Young amber eyes pierced the nearby waves of the ocean, the constant roll and ebbing crash of them would be soothing - but he knew what lay beneath.
Geralt wondered distractedly if the rumors were true.
He shook himself, trying to clear whatever stupid idea was about to enter his head. Monsters were dangerous, and he's just feeling horny. There's no need to wonder about-
He had a job to do. And Vesemir would kill him if he died so foolishly after only being on the Path for a year.
"Once you're on the sands, you'll be able to reach the fields beyond. If a drowner comes near, you'll be safe." Geralt patted Roach's flank and she trotted off to enjoy the long grasses. She would have a perfect vantage point to spot any danger.
"Hm."
Geralt unsheathed his silver sword. The alderman had said that as few as three drowners had been spotted here a month ago. They came around rarely, and in varying low numbers - but just one chance encounter would be enough for innocent blood to spill. He was here to check for a nest. Hopefully, destroying it would deter them.
There won't be a fishing boat near the shores today. The last thing Geralt needed was bait, he's a fine tracker.
"Webbed tracks, just here," he kneeled down and peered at the day-old evidence. One sweeping glance around confirmed that it was just one drowner. it had beered through the muddy salt marsh - it's goal was obvious. The creatures that lived in it were an easy meal, plenty of crabs and mussels to be found and devoured. There were even little fish that glimmered silver or a pale gold.
One drowner. There won't be a nest, then. Still, it was his duty to be certain, and if there really wasn't a nest, he'd likely have to spend a few days tracking all three drowners down. Geralt remained still so he could hone in on the right scent. Male - an alpha. He sighed, and tried to ignored how his pheromones flared and the scent of his own slick began to fill the air.
He made to stand up, and he nearly fell back into the mud.
Geralt groaned at the strengthening ache. His wet walls clenched around nothing, and he whined with great embarrassment.
There was a high chance that there wasn't a nest. Fishermen won't be out for a while, so no one appeared to be in any looming danger. He could make it back to the village and seek an alpha to assist him through the brunt of his heat. With his mutagens, it really only lasted for a day or two-
A deep rumble broke him from his thoughts. He jerked, searching for the sound.
The drowner-
Geralt's mouth was dry and he tried to swallow the stupid omega horniness down. His sword was still clutched in his hand. The aching was harrowing now, but he was a witcher, he could take down one measley drowner mid-heat.
He let out a warning growl, ready for the drowner to strike.
But - it didn't. Instead, it stayed a few paces away, watching him curiously.
He growled again in confused frustration, and to his surprise, the drowner stepped back.
Geralt narrowed his eyes. Were the-
Were the rumors true? Or was his stupid, horny, heat-addled brain going to get him killed?
The scent of a nearby alpha made his stomach cramp, and he felt a sudden gush of slick. It made him groan, and his eyes shut in a wince.
A strange cooing sound came from the drowner, Geralt opened his eyes dizzily. It hadn't moved, but it was instinctually filling the air with soothing pheromones.
Fuck, he was starting to relax under the scent. Should he- His heat would only get worse within the hour. He was too far from the village now. Melitele - he felt so stupid.
It ached so much.
His mind was racing, and he found himself madly wondering about the rumors again. Alphas were quite docile. If an omega in heat didn't want to be approached, they'd stay away.
No sane person would happily trot around exclaiming that they spent their heat with a monster. The social implications of it- A traitorous part of his mind whispered that he was a witcher, and no matter what - he will be an outcast. But still, an alpha monster that mates with a human omega - or a witcher omega - was likely to devour them.
He shuddered, the excessive slick was ruining his tight trousers. Geralt's hazy gaze took in the sight of the drowner's sharp set of teeth, it's claws were dark and vicious. The dripping seaweed and fanned webbing ultimately made for an ugly sight.
And yet, Geralt felt a red-hot warmth in his stomach that had nothing to do with the heat. He was still on his knees in the mud and the silt.
Gods, it really would just get worse and worse...
He licked his lips, his mouth and throat were still dry. Geralt allowed for one final moment of clarity to assess before he just decided - fuck it - and shakily shifted positions so he could present himself, his scent.
The drowner didn't move, still as stone. But it's glowing eyes traced Geralt's every move. He couldn't stope the shiver that tore through him.
Fuck, he really would have to do more to entice the drowner near. Surely that was a good sign though, the drowner was neither ripping him to shreds nor mating him without his consent.
He groaned loudly, tearing off the trousers that seemed to be pasted onto his slick-soaked legs. The drowner's head tilted slightly, Geralt could feel it - he could feel the burning excitement and thrill of seducing an alpha. The alpha being a monster made it more delicious, somehow, and Geralt's head fell backwards into the mud. It would be a nightmare to clean his hair after this, but he didn't care in the slightest. A keen ripped from his throat, and at last he sensed the alpha draw near. The smell of fish and the sea was somehow not overbearing.
Wet, clammy hands adjusted his knees further apart, baring his cunt and twitching cock to the alpha. It made his muscles flex and his walls flutter, and there was a soft sound of fresh, gushing slick. His cheeks burned fire hot, he hadn't known that witchers could even blush.
He felt relief as the drowner was careful not to scratch him, it's hands slid smoothly to Geralt's inner thighs. Moments later, the drowner was leaning downward and there was a puff of hot air below his throbbing cock, at his cunt. His thighs trembled at the sound of it deeply inhaling his heat scent. There was nowhere in the mud to dig his hands into at the dizzying sensation of it's nose pressing further into him - the sniffing became wet, Geralt's slick was coating the drowner's nose - and the witcher gasped roughly.
"J-just!" his breath was hitched in his throat, hips thrusting slightly at the pressure of the drowner against him. "Please-"
Geralt was at the precipise of begging the drowner now, and the realization left him molten hot with embarrassment, yet also made him deeply aroused.
The drowner didn't understand Common, but it understood his desperation. It made another cooing sound. Geralt held back his verbal protest when he found himself easing and relaxing. He didn't want to risk driving the drowner away with the misconception of any sort of rejection. Especially when he caught the mirroring scent of arousal from the alpha above him. One glance at the emerging blue cock protruding from a cloaca and he was bucking against the air - the damned drowner pulled away to observe him, but it's claws pressed gently - deliciously - into his thighs and held him down.
It leaned forward and pressed it's wet nose into his neck, tantalizingly close to where human alphas usually bit him during his heats to stimulate the endorphins that would fill him with the satisfaction of a successful mating.
Geralt mindlessly tilted his head, stomach already fluttering with excitement. Once his mind finally caught on, he shut his eyes tightly and let himself purr faintly in askance. Now that he had a taste of the gentle alpha's touch, he didn't fear the sharpness of those teeth. He was ready - he wanted so much-
The alpha purred in response and mouthed tenderly at his scent glands - but oh, that wasn't all. The clammy hands holding his thighs down made it easer for the drowner to rub it's cock at his cunt without navigating.
All the air left Geralt's lungs. It was so much. It was just enough. No, it wasn't enough at all, he still wanted more-
His muddy hands reached around the alpha and lightly pressed one hand to the back of the drowner's head, silently encouraging a more lasting bite, and the other hand down the ridge of still-damp back fins that trailed to the drowner's ass. That hand pushed a fair bit harder.
The drowner's delighted hiss was muffled. Geralt worried for a moment that he went too far. However, his wariness was dashed when the drowner bit deeper, plunged deeper into his aching, slick cunt, and they both moaned.
"Yes!" Geralt gasped out. Melitele- fucking yes.
The pleasure of finally being filled sang through his body. The endorphins from the bite were just as strong as well. It was embarrassing how quickly his body was shaking. Not a single moan could be bitten down and kept buried in this throat.
Claws pressed just a slight bit further into his skin and everything was perfect. The minimal pain slid perfectly into pleasure. His hips thrust back against the defined curve of the drowner's cock, chasing it's slowly forming knot. He let go of the back of the alpha's head and fisted his own cock.
Geralt could feel the teeth lower and nip small bites at his nipples - protruding hard and sensitive in the open, salty air. The glowing eyes never left his, and he felt so safe, safe, safe. This alpha would never harm him - so foolish to have thought otherwise - monster of not.
He whimpered, the drowner seemed to take that as some sort of cue and shifted the angle until it was pistoning into him.
"Fuck!" his legs were lifted off the ground, held securely by the drowner. Every other thrust would hit a spark in him that made the pleasure thrum relentlessly. He was seeing stars. It was good that he was being held now - he would have collapsed otherwise.
"Fucking give it to me!" he cried, voice hoarse and low with lust he could not begin to wrap his head around. "Knot me, alpha, fuck-"
The drowner gave an answering rumble - not quite a growl, but it still sent a firey heat through him.
Eventually, the drowner's knot grew too big to ram him with. The rapter of it was white-hot, Geralt came with a force he never felt before.
It left him a shivering, wet wreck. Strips of his come decorated his thighs and the drowner's abdomen. The drowner continued to fuck into him, slowly and heavily. It's swollen balls dragged against him with each thrust. By the time the alpha spilled into him - and spilled, and just kept spilling, there was so much - he was a shivering in ruin from another orgasm.
The white noise of the waves couldn't drown out his weak mewling. the alpha nuzzled his neck, purring as it languidly pumped into him it's salty seed. He could feel the pulse of it's cock within him, the way it strummed through his body felt like it was his own heartbeat. If he weren't human - fuck, would the seed catch? He nearly came again-
His senses were to addled and distracted by his sated heat to measure how long he was knotted for. It was only after they parted that Geralt remembered himself.
The drowner didn't move, growl, or otherwise protest as Geralt stood on frighteningly shaky legs. He gathered his stained trousers and his sword and stumbled into the fields in search of Roach.
He could feel those glowing eyes on him as he settled everything in his sattlebags, including the rest of his armor. He could feel them even more when he stared in turn, on his way back.
---
His heat had strangely prolonged to three total days - odd for a witcher. Then again, he'd never spent a heat like this one before.
By the end of it, there was no way he was riding atop Roach. the drowner's alpha scent was mingled with his own. Especially with his slick. The damned creature learned that it's tongue was just long enough to slither past it's fangs and into Geralt's cunt to chase his wet arousal. That had been during the fourth knotting, on the second day. He shivered at the memory of it.
But eventually, everything came to an end, and he had his full senses again. His mind was no longer heat-addled, and he tracked the other two drowners sullenly. They were infinitely more aggressive. Neither of them were alphas, so the drowners didn't care for his post-heat pheromones. He was still shuddering in a cold sweat at the feel of their blood on his filthy armor.
The alpha drowner, however, was a different story.
No matter how long he trailed after it, choking down his regret and guilt at the thought of killing it, it was docile. He followed for days, which turned into weeks, and then two entire months. Even as it neared the village, and a few encounters with humans - regardless of their secondary sex - it never snarled and it never, ever, attacked.
Geralt even tried approaching it again. To his secret glee, he was welcomed effortlessly in it's presence. It didn't mind him in the slightest watching as it hunted the marshes for crabs to feast upon. It also railed him once or twice when he presented himself - heat long gone.
The shame of it still burned his cheeks, but he was slowly growing to understand and accept this new part of himself.
There was one time the drowner hadn't been in the mood. It rather swim around for fish under the waves, and the uninterested pheromones drove Geralt away.
At the end of the second month of his observing, and avoiding Roach's strangely judging gaze, Geralt felt it was safe to just leave it be. His heart felt light at the realization.
As he left the waves and the marsh behind to speak to the alderman - nothing about anything that transpired between him and the alpha of course, nor why it took him so long - Geralt wondered how many other monster alphas could become docile. He sighed heavily to himself, ignoring Roach's exasperated whinny. It was too bad he couldn't just fuck them all.