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”You’re brooding,” a gentle voice tugged Dettlaff out of his thoughts. Regis.
Dettlaff released a small sigh - yes, he was indeed brooding, as the other vampire put it, sitting under a tree overlooking Corvo Bianco. His heart still ached from the pain Rhena- no, Syanna had inflicted on it. And he couldn’t help but wonder; wonder if killing her had been the right choice - or should he have let her face justice at Anna Henrietta’s hands?
Two strong arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind, the scent of their owner making him breathe in deeply. Geralt. Geralt, who had faced punishment for failing to keep Syanna safe, keep her safe from Dettlaff-
”Trying to steal my title as ’Broody Bitch Number 1’?” the witcher murmured against his neck.
A soft snort came from Regis, both amused and exasperated. ”What am I going to do with you? Two men who think far too much for their own good - or at least too dark thoughts.” Of course Regis would know what plagued Dettlaff’s mind.
The younger vampire hummed instead of answering, an unfortunate habit he had picked up from Geralt.
”How lucky, then, that there is a rather brilliant way to quiet your mind.” Regis took a step closer towards his mates, lifting a hand to gently caress Dettlaff’s cheek. He cast a knowing smile in Geralt’s direction.
”Oh? And what did you have in mind?” Dettlaff’s own voice sounded rough in comparison to Regis’ velvety tone. He knew what kind of game of his Regis had just started to wrap both him and Geralt up in, and he couldn’t suppress his growing curiosity and anticipation.
A softly rumbling laugh met his ears, accompanied by a kiss and bite to his neck. Oh, the irony of a vampire having his neck claimed like that. ”Mind-blowing sex for example,” Geralt whispered, licking over the already fading bite mark.
Regis rolled his eyes at the witcher’s eloquence but smiled nonetheless. He bent down to plant a kiss on Dettlaff’s lips, taking his sweet time to savour the taste, then parted from him with a nip on his bottom lip. ”Our little wolf is right, that would be a splendid idea, don’t you think, my love?”
Between his mates’ soft touches, Dettlaff felt a semblance of peace creep up on him, like he belonged. ”Yes. I think it is.”
———
As Geralt clenched down on him, pulled under by his orgasm, Dettlaff let himself be swept away by pleasure as well. Only as he came down from his high did he notice the taste of his little wolf’s blood on his tongue. He licked over the bite mark on Geralt’s neck apologetically, getting a tired laugh in return. He quirked an eyebrow, looking down at his witcher.
”You’re like an overgrown mosquito.”
Geralt flashed a lopsided grin at the vampire, stretching like a cat. His tone might have been cheeky, yet his face couldn’t hide his satisfaction.
”And you get off on it,” Dettlaff deadpanned with a blank expression.
From the armchair next to the bed, Regis’ soft chuckle could be heard. The higher vampire’s posture suggested that of a king, about to judge his subjects, yet his own expression openly boasted the affection he held for his mates, the ”two beings closest to my heart” as he liked to call them.
Geralt blinked at his lovers for a second before laughing. ”Touché.”
Dettlaff hummed.
Rhena would never have let him do any of this. Her kisses were fleeting, soft, like a breeze that was gone the moment it started. She hugged him only in the dead of night, only enough-
”You’re thinking again.” Regis’ voice sounded directly next to his ear - Dettlaff hadn’t even noticed him misting over. A hand snuck around Dettlaff’s throat, sharp fingernails lightly digging into the skin.
”I…” He was indeed thinking. Dettlaff let out a sigh he might have been holding for days, maybe even years. ”I apologize.”
”Don’t.” Geralt pressed a kiss to his chin. ”Just…”
”Let yourself be taken care of,” Regis finished. He nipped at Dettlaff’s shoulder, earning a gasp, and busied himself with sucking a quickly fading bruise into the fair skin.
”And you, little wolf,” Regis addressed Geralt after a while, ”you should rest. I can smell your exhaustion.”
And it was true. Two higher vampires could easily wear down even that fabled witcher stamina within a few hours, Geralt of Rivia being no exception. With what strength he had remaining, Geralt lifted himself up to give both of them a kiss. Then, he curled up on one of the pillows, falling asleep in seconds.
”My, my,” Regis chuckled. ”You really wore him out.”
”So did you.”
”I can’t deny that you speak the truth, just as I won’t deny that I plan to do the same to you.” Regis’ voice stayed gentle and calm, yet Dettlaff could also hear something more primal in it that made his breathing hitch.
In favour of answering, Dettlaff pressed his back to the other vampire’s chest. Regis didn’t need a verbal answer anyway, bonded by blood as they were, he would feel Dettlaff’s growing arousal.
Which was exactly the case, judging by the deep breath Regis took. Without further ado, he pressed Dettlaff into the mattress, careful to avoid crushing their sleeping wolf.
”I wonder if I can make you moan loud enough to wake him up?” Regis mused, ever collected, yet oh so devious in that moment. ”Or maybe make you scream?”
A shiver ran through Dettlaff’s body, his imagination spurred on by Regis’ promises - because that was usually the true nature of his proposals, and he sounded damn sure of himself right now.
The hand around his throat tightened briefly, not to cut off air that wasn’t needed anyway, but to lay a claim, and give a command: Stay.
It was not often that Dettlaff was at the other’s mercy like this. Geralt was usually quite happy to be the centre of attention in that regard. Yet when it did happen, Dettlaff found himself oh so readily falling into Regis’ hands. Regis, who had saved his life by convincing Geralt-
”Stop thinking.”
The whispered command cut right through Dettlaff’s wandering thoughts, the accompanying fingers circling his entrance lending it additional weight. Whatever reply might’ve been on the tip of his tongue fell away as Regis pressed inside, the two digits slowly starting to work him open.
Soft kisses were peppered all over his back, leaving behind a trail of tingling nerves. Dettlaff lowered his head, slowly and bit by bit surrendering to the other vampire, and was promptly rewarded with a bite to his shoulder, just shy of breaking the skin. Sharp nails, almost as sharp as the teeth marking him, drew faint lines across his neck as Regis’ other hand opened him up, never faltering until-
”Nghaaah-!” Jolting in Regis’ hold, Dettlaff gasped out a breath.
With a low chuckle, Regis pressed his mate further down into the pillows, keeping the slight pressure on his neck, his other hand never stopping its movement, infuriatingly nimble fingers constantly brushing against that spot that made Dettlaff’s body burn with pleasure.
”I wonder how many times I can make you come just like this, nothing but my fingers inside you,” Regis mused, licking along Dettlaff’s spine, hand sliding from his neck into the raven locks and pulling.
A moan escaped past Dettlaff’s lips. He’d be damned if he wasn’t curious to find out himself, so he pushed back on those talented fingers.
He never saw the almost wicked smile that graced his mate’s face.
———
As it turned out, the answer was seven times, the number only cut short by Regis’ own patience running out.
”Hm, I must say, you look quite ravishing like this, my dear.” Regis accentuated his point by sweeping Dettlaff into a near bruising kiss, swallowing the whine that escaped the younger vampire.
When they parted after a long while, Dettlaff’s thoughts were spinning. His hair, usually so proper, now fell into his eyes in unruly waves, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. He licked his lips, tasting the salt of the tears he had shed when at one point, Regis just wouldn’t let him come for so long!
Black eyes caught his, so unlike his own icy blues, so unlike-
”Stop.”
His mind went blissfully quiet again.
”Good boy,” Regis praised quietly, rewarding his mate by once again pulling his hair.
By now, Dettlaff didn’t care about keeping quiet anymore, broken moans and whines freely spilling from his lips. He felt Regis lining himself up with his entrance and instinctually spread his legs a bit more, earning another rewarding tug at his hair.
”So good for me…” Regis trailed his hands up Dettlaff’s milky thighs, before firmly gripping them, pushing them apart. ”Let’s see whether you’ll wake our little wolf now, shall we?” With those words, Regis pushed in, not giving the other a chance to reply.
A cry was punched from Dettlaff’s lungs as his mate slid home with a well-aimed thrust, quickly setting a punishing pace. ”Ah- Regis-!” He threw his arms around Regis’ neck, desperate to hold on to something, hold on to someone, to Regis, his mate.
A slight movement in the corner of his eye briefly caught Dettlaff’s attention through the misty haze that was swirling around in his head. Geralt. His wolf. His mate.
Geralt, who was so different, silver where she was black, kind where she was-
A sharp bite to his thigh snapped Dettlaff’s attention back to the present.
Regis hummed, sounding satisfied, and swiftly angled his thrusts to hit Dettlaff’s prostate each time, rapidly turning the younger vampire into a writhing, moaning mess.
”Beautiful, my love. That’s it, let go, let go for me…”
That velvety voice whispering filthily sweet praises into his skin eventually sent Dettlaff over the edge with a shout, his body burning with the sensitivity of multiple orgasms already, Regis touching him everywhere, still talking, still moving.
”Breathtaking, stunning…” Regis pressed a kiss to his cheek, then pulled back a little, a dangerous glint in his eyes. ”It seems our little wolf is still asleep. I propose we renew our efforts, shall we?”
Dettlaff only managed a soft whine, baring his throat for his mate. Another bite, another caress, and his mind went fuzzy once more. But Regis was there.
———
Regis took a sip of ’White Wolf’ and turned another page. He had thoroughly underestimated Geralt’s ability to sleep through probably even the end of the world if he felt safe, though it also made his own world that much brighter.
He cast a loving look at Geralt and Dettlaff, both of them curled up on either side of him, seemingly dead to the world, peacefully slumbering. They were his home, they were pack. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.