The Witcher is Kind of Gay - 7. Zoltan

Geralt raised his tankard in a toast. ‘To Zoltan Chivay! Toughest dwarf I’ve ever known!’

‘Only the toughest dwarf?’ Zoltan hiccuped. ‘Zoltan Chivay is the mightiest warrior that ever lived! I killed . . . I killed five—five Geralt! Five in that last wave alone!’

The Witcher laughed. ‘Five, huh? Well, I’ll have you know, I killed fifteen. You’re tough, Zoltan, but you’re not,’ he stifled a burp, ‘not as tough as Geralt of Rivia!’

I sighed and rolled my eyes. ‘Never knew you two to be so competitive.’

‘It’s the drink,’ said Zoltan matter-of-factly. ‘Mahakaman mead! Makes you . . . Puts hair on your chest! Makes you a man!’ He banged his fist on the table. ‘Eh, Geralt?’

‘Damn right!’ said Geralt and drained his goblet and waved to the bartender. ‘Another!’

‘But women!’ said Zoltan. ‘You wouldn’t believe how many women I’ve had, Geralt.’

‘You’re right, I do not.’ Geralt smirked.

‘You wound me!’

‘Dwarven women don’t count,’ Geralt insisted. ‘Do they even exist? I’ve never seen one!’

‘We’re very protective of them,’ said Zoltan defensively.

‘Either way,’ said I, ‘neither one of you can compete with me. You may as well give up now.’

They looked like they were about to argue, but then they both shrugged and returned to their drinks.

I shook my head and strummed my lute.

‘A headstrong dwarf and a Witcher of lore

Did one night drink too much mead and therefore

They argued over who was truly the best

And it ended up as a pissing contest!’

Zoltan snapped his fingers. ‘That’s not a half bad idea! Completely measurable!’

Geralt laughed. ‘Too true! Let’s do it!’

I frowned. ‘Do what?’

‘Pissing contest!’ Zoltan grinned.

‘Really?’ I looked from one to the other. ‘You’re really doing this?’

‘Hey, it was . . . it was your idea, Dandelion!’ said Zoltan. ‘You’re to blame! And now you have to be the judge. Come on!’ He drained his mead in one swig. So did Geralt, even though he’d only just gotten it.

I hesitated. I had exactly no desire to see Geralt or Zoltan piss, let alone both of them at once. Part of me was a bit curious as to how this would play out, however, and so, when my very drunk friends stood from their seats and stumbled toward the exit, I reluctantly followed.

‘We can’t just do it here,’ said Geralt, scratching his chin, once we stood outside The Cauldron.

‘Up this way,’ said Zoltan, and we followed him into an alley of sorts. ‘Let’s do this, then.’ He undid his trousers.

I looked away in embarrassment. Geralt did not. He went to stand next to Zoltan and pulled his cock out as well. ‘Come on, Dandelion, you said you’d be the judge!’

‘I said no such thing!’

‘You followed! That’s as good as a promise!’ said Zoltan.

‘. . . Do I really have to?’ I asked. ‘I mean, really?’

‘Yes,’ they both said together. I turned my eyes to them and tried resolutely not to look at their manhoods.

‘Fine.’ I folded my arms. ‘Ready, set, piss!’

They both did, hard yellow streams hitting the cobblestones. I wasn’t even sure what I was supposed to be measuring. How far they were pissing? Who pissed the longest? Which puddle splashed the most?

Zoltan stopped first, and Geralt gave a triumphant laugh. ‘Hah! I win!’

‘You had more to drink than I did!’ Zoltan glared at him. ‘Also, my piss splashed against the wall, I clearly pissed the hardest.’

‘Yeah, but you’re two feet shorter than me,’ said Geralt, grinning. ‘Also . . . mine is bigger than yours.’

I groaned and rolled my eyes.

‘I’m a grower, not a shower,’ Zoltan grumbled and made to put his cock away.

There was a mischievous glint in Geralt’s eye when he next spoke. ‘Prove it.’

Zoltan met his gaze defiantly. ‘Oh, I’ll fucking prove it, Witcher! Dandelion?’

‘No!’ I said. ‘No, absolutely not, I will have no part in this. I’m leaving.’

‘No you’re not,’ said Zoltan. ‘We need a fair and unbiased judge!’

‘You expect me to watch while you—’ I swallowed. ‘You are both insane. You’ll regret all this in the morning, you know.’

But they weren’t listening. Instead they both took themselves in hand and began to stroke, each staring at the other’s manhood. I must have blushed scarlet. This was too much. And yet I couldn’t seem to look away.

I had thought maybe they’d stop when they were hard, measure, and then tuck their cocks away to finish on their own later, but that was not what happened. Instead, they continued to stroke, their breathing growing heavy and laboured.

Zoltan’s face was red, and Geralt was staring at his friend’s manhood with something akin to hunger. That was unsettling, and I decided not to look at his face. That left me with only one place to look, and that was their cocks.

It seemed size was no longer the object of the contest. Now, they were both trying not to finish first. It was clear from the way Geralt groaned, swore, and slowed the movement of his hand before speeding up again, and the way Zoltan grunted and tried to stifle a moan. I looked at their faces once more. They both gritted their teeth, and now they were no longer staring at each other’s cocks. Instead, they were looking each other right in the eye.

Of course, Geralt had his mutated Witcher’s stamina. Trying to keep up with him was hopeless in the first place, so it was no wonder Zoltan came first. Once he had, it seemed Geralt had no reason to hold back anymore, though in hindsight, with all I now know, it is possible that seeing Zoltan ejaculate made it impossible for him to hold back his own orgasm. Cum dripped onto the cobblestones below and I looked away again, trying to control my own heartbeat. Finally, they both put their cocks away and did up their trousers.

‘I won,’ said Geralt simply.

‘Damned Witcher . . .’

‘Face it, you could never beat me.’

‘But one thing remains!’ said Zoltan and turned to me. ‘Dandelion! Which one of us has the bigger cock?’

I sighed, shaking my head. ‘Hard to tell. Honestly, I’m impressed you could both get it up given how drunk you are.’ I paused. I really hadn’t been able to tell, though I was forced to admit to myself that they were both rather well endowed . . . But then, Geralt had beaten the dwarf at everything so far. I should let Zoltan have this one. ‘Zoltan’s is a tad bigger.’

‘Hah! I told you so!’ Zoltan shouted with glee.

Geralt shook his head. ‘You must be mistaken, Dandelion. We’ve got to do it again.’

‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘No, never again. If you two want to measure the size of your manhoods or see who can piss the furthest, that’s on you. I’ll have no part in it.’ And with that, I turned and walked away. What may have happened after, I do not know.

* * *

The following morning, I found Zoltan and Geralt in a sorry state. They both lay draped over the table, and when I sat, Zoltan gave me a shaky, ‘Shh.’ He glanced at me with one eye. ‘Don’t sit so loudly.’

‘Hungover?’ I asked.

‘No need to shout,’ Geralt complained. I tried my hardest not to laugh.

‘That was my normal voice, Geralt.’ I glanced from one to the other of them. ‘I suppose it’s no wonder. You were both very drunk last night.’

‘Cannae remember a thing.’ Zoltan sat up a bit. ‘Last night’s a complete blur.’

Geralt nodded into the table. His voice came out muffled by the sleeve of his armour. ‘Yeah. Me too. I completely blacked out. And I’m a fucking Witcher, that never happens with my metabolism!’

‘That’s Dwarven mead for you!’ There was a certain degree of pride in Zoltan’s voice. ‘If you drink it like you drink that Temerian shite you’re guaranteed to pass out at some point.’

‘Seems you were drinking it like the Temerian shite, too,’ I pointed out. ‘So neither of you remember a thing?’

‘Nothing,’ said Zoltan.

‘Not a thing,’ Geralt echoed, forehead still pressed to the table. ‘Just want this headache to go away . . .’

‘You should eat something,’ I said. ‘Might help.’

‘Ugh, no . . . Think I’m gonna throw up . . .’ Geralt stood up abruptly and stumbled out of the inn.

‘Why do you ask, anyway?’ said Zoltan. ‘Did something happen?’

If neither of them had any idea of what they had done the night before, I wasn’t going to tell them. It was probably just as well. Geralt might have been able to deal with it, but Zoltan would probably lie down and die if he knew that he and Geralt had jerked off together.

I shook my head. ‘Nothing at all.’