The Witcher is Kind of Gay - 1. Eskel

Eskel and Geralt often got in trouble. They were a pain in Vesemir’s, and all the other older Witchers’ backsides. They had trained together from childhood, and by the time they were in their teens, they had become good friends as well as partners in crime.

‘Get in here!’ Geralt hissed, holding the door to one of the castle’s many empty rooms open. Eskel positively flew through the doorway, and Geralt silently closed it behind them. They looked at each other and burst into silent laughter.

The trap they had set up in the main hall would cover anyone in the vicinity with tar when set off. It was better for them to be nowhere near the place when that happened, although the odds of their elders figuring out they had done it were fairly high anyway.

Eskel looked around the room. ‘Hey,’ he said quietly. ‘Old armoury.’

‘Huh, how about that.’ Geralt approached a rack of silver swords. They were in some disrepair, the metal oxidised and dull. He noticed another door on the far side of the room. ‘Wonder what’s through there.’

He approached and tested the handle. It did not appear to be locked, so he pushed it open. It creaked louder than he would have liked, but then they were a fair bit away from the main portion of the castle anyway. No quarters or training rooms around here. The School of the Wolf was not as large as once it had been, though they muddled along still.

The room beyond was dark and small. There were no windows, but the floor was richly carpeted. The carpet was covered in a thick layer of dust that puffed up when Geralt set foot on it. Other than that, it was empty, and Geralt felt a bit disappointed, though he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to find.

They heard a noise in the hall outside. Footsteps, coming closer. If the trap had gone off already, it was likely that someone was in fact searching for them. Geralt waved Eskel closer, and they slipped into the smaller room, closing the door as carefully as they could. Thankfully, it did not creak this time.

A small sliver of light crept in under the door, and another through a crack high on the stone wall. Daylight. Judging by their position, there should be nothing but a steep rock face below, so no danger that anyone would walk by and hear or see them.

The steps moved away again, and Geralt gave a soft laugh. The excitement of almost getting caught filled his stomach, his heart pounding, and he grinned at Eskel through the semi-darkness, throwing an arm around his shoulder. ‘I think they’re gone.’

He registered Eskel’s nod more by the movement of his shoulders than actually seeing him. He wondered what that would be like after going through the Trial of the Dreams. Would he be able to see people even better in this level of darkness then? He pushed the thought of the trials from his mind. There were things he didn’t want to remember, and he had the white hair to prove it.

‘I think we’re good,’ said Eskel, putting his arm around Geralt’s waist. The reassuring presence relaxed him, and pushed the memories away.

They were often close like this, reaching out, touching. They shared a deep and uncomplicated friendship, safe and open and honest. But sometimes, when they were this close, Geralt’s heart would speed up more than it should. Now his body was shot with adrenaline, he was high on their narrow escape. He swallowed, and experimentally leaned closer to Eskel, resting his head on his shoulder.

‘So,’ he said slowly. ‘What do we do now?’

‘Hm.’ Eskel’s voice was soft, but he was breathing a little heavier than usual. Was it simply from the exertion of running and hiding, or something else? Only one way to find out.

Geralt carefully brought his lips close to Eskel’s ear. ‘Hey,’ he whispered, and the other let out a sigh. ‘Wanna have some fun?’

Eskel turned towards him. Geralt could make out his gleaming eyes in the dark, and then they were kissing. He wasn’t sure who had started it, but now they were attached at the lips, pawing at each other’s clothes with little elegance or dignity. The kiss was sloppy, clumsy, all teeth and tongue, with neither boy having much experience in the matter.

Geralt managed to loosen the neck of Eskel’s linen shirt, gaining access to his neck and shoulders, needing to taste his skin. Eskel backed into the stone wall, leant his head back and released a low moan. The sound seemed to go straight to Geralt’s groin, and he groaned with need.

His friend’s hand pawed at the front of Geralt’s trousers, finding him hard. His other hand joined the first, trying to undo them, but in the darkness and with his hands shaking he struggled. Geralt reached down, took his hand and pressed it into the wall. His lips left Eskel’s throat and he found his mouth again. He liked how this made him feel, and what it did to Eskel, whose breath came ragged and uneven. He could hear his heartbeat, hard and fast. He also liked having the upper hand, and, letting go of Eskel’s hand again, moved to loosen his trousers.

Eskel’s prick was hard, as Geralt’s own was. There was nothing surprising about that. At their age, it generally only took a single thought for that to happen. Still, when he found Eskel’s cock already leaking, Geralt smiled into the kiss. Eskel hissed and swore under his breath.

‘Ah! Geralt, let me . . .’ He reached for Geralt’s trousers again, and this time Geralt let him.

They jerked each other frantically for about a minute, until Geralt said, ‘Wait. Lemme try something.’ He removed Eskel’s hand and moved closer, allowing their cocks, slick with precum, to slide against one another. They both groaned at the delicious friction, hips moving erratically.

Again, they kissed, Geralt’s hand sliding up under Eskel’s shirt to explore his warm skin. He was lean and muscular, the skin surprisingly soft beneath Geralt’s fingertips. He pressed one hand to Eskel’s chest, feeling his heart beat against his palm. He reached down again and wrapped his hand around both their cocks, stroking. Eskel moaned and bucked his hips, putting his arms around Geralt, clinging to him.

Neither of them lasted long. When they came, Eskel first and then Geralt a second later, their cries were muffled by their kisses. They stood still for some moments, panting. Then their eyes met, and they both burst out laughing, before kissing again.

Geralt’s ears, which had been full of Eskel’s pants and moans, now heard movement on the other side of the door. A split second later, light hit them all at once like cold water, and they sprung apart immediately. In the doorway stood Vesemir. He looked tired, if somewhat amused, and turned away with a scoff. ‘I see you found a way to amuse yourselves while your trap went off. Don’t try to deny it, I know it was you two.’

Flushing profusely, both boys did up their trousers hurriedly, only sparing each other a glance or two before looking away again. It was so different in daylight. Geralt felt embarrassed about getting caught, but more than that, he felt self conscious in front of Eskel, now that they could properly see one another.

When they were both dressed again, Vesemir turned back to look at them, hands at his sides. ‘The two of you will clean every inch of the main hall. And after that, you’ll be polishing swords for a month.’ He didn’t sound angry so much as exasperated. ‘In separate rooms,’ he added, ‘to dissuade you from polishing each other’s.’

They both blushed crimson, refusing to meet his eyes. Vesemir regarded them for another moment, and then walked away.

They did not speak of what had happened, and a couple of days later things were back to normal. If Geralt thought of it once or twice while getting off, that was his own business. Eskel need not know.

It would be many, many years before the two, one drunken winter night at Kaer Morhen, acknowledged what had happened between them at the tender age of fifteen. They regretted nothing.