Chapter Text
The second time they kiss, it’s raining out.
It’s a few days after the ritual and Lambert has been struggling to get used to the feeling of chaos buzzing under his skin.
Walking up the keep stairs winds him.
He can’t lift a sword anymore, his hands shake too violently. Triss tells him it will abate in time, his body will grow accustomed to this new power - the dark magic that’s leeching his strength from him and using it to keep Aiden alive.
He’s got crow’s feet now, he noticed. Aiden kissed them when he pointed them out, and muttered, “Pretty, pretty Witcher,” kissed down his cheeks, then, hesitantly, his lips.
They haven’t kissed since the clusterfuck that was Lambert leaving him in the tavern room alone, and it feels like coming home. He cups Aiden’s cheek, draws him closer, and sighs into the feeling of soft lips on his. It’s a bit salty, the taste. Aiden’s lips and cheeks are still a bit slick from crying.
Lambert had been explaining what exactly the ritual did. Aiden was exhausted and slept for a couple of days afterwards, letting his body heal from being held captive and the fatal wound through the chest. He’s got a scar there that Lambert likes to trace gently, likes to press his palm to and feel the beating of his heart underneath - remind himself that his Cat is alive. But, as soon as he was well enough, Lambert knew he ought to tell him what happened.
He explained what they had done to get him back, and Aiden cried, insisting Lambert didn’t have to do that, didn’t have to essentially sacrifice his soul, but Lambert isn’t having any of that. It’s too late now anyways. And he’d do it again without a thought.
He tells Aiden as much and is pushed back on the bed, his Cat, complete with a Cat medallion clinking against his Griffin medallion, crawls over him and straddles his thighs.
The taste of Aiden’s tongue is spicy-sweet and fucking addictive. And Aiden, it turns out, is fucking handsy. He cups Lambert’s jaw, pulls a little at his hair, smooths palms over his chest, back and shoulders like he’s trying to memorize every inch of the body below him. Maybe they share that in common. Lambert tries to memorize him by feel alone too, tries to become as familiar with his Cat's body as he is with his own.
He’s gotten used to falling asleep with his Cat cuddled up next to him now. He used to sleep on the stone of the floor, but Aiden has gradually bullied him into sharing the bed with huffs of displeasure and low, warning growls that make something deep and primal in Lambert’s belly curl deliciously. It’s almost the same noise Aiden is making now, against his lips.
A quiet rumble that sounds almost like distant thunder, a sound that makes Lambert feel small in a way he never has before. Lambert is usually afraid of thunder. It reminds him of the sound of fists on flesh and his mother crying but - this thunder rattles in his chest and settles him.
“Aiden,” Lambert breathes - pleads - between kisses. The growling grows louder and teeth sink into Lambert’s lower lip,
“Mine,” Aiden snarls.
Lambert’s heart hammers in his chest; he’s never seen Aiden act this way. So possessive. Like he wants to claim him. His breath catches at the thought, and he finds himself nodding thoughtlessly.
"Yes," he agrees, suddenly desperate for that to be true, “Yours.”
Even though Aiden has titled Lambert as his before, Lambert thought it was more of a gentle, asking thing then. Confirming that they loved each other. This time, it truly does feel like Aiden wants to possess him, and well… he’s already given up his soul, he already belongs wholly to him, so whatever Aiden’s mutated instincts are telling him he needs to do, Lambert is all for. He really wants to be more casual about this than he is feeling - like his blood is boiling with the need of it all -
“Mine,” Aiden repeats, kissing and biting his way down Lambert’s jaw and throat.
“Gonna, mm,” he tilts his head back, baring his throat properly, “Mark me like I’m your bitch or something?”
It’s meant to be a joke, because that's what Lambert does when he's feeling any kind of vulnerable, but Aiden snarls a wordless noise and bares his teeth against the side of his neck, just over where his pulse is strongest, and holds. A threat. A promise.
It would be everything he’s ever wanted, in a way. To belong. To be wanted. Marked - claimed.
He licks his lips, relaxes and breathes, “Yes.”
Teeth sink in and break skin - Lambert shudders, heat pooling in his abdomen - Aiden holds him there and ruts against him. They’re both hard, but Lambert doesn’t expect it to go anywhere. They had a conversation the day before in which Aiden shyly told him he was nervous to kiss Lambert because he isn’t ready to go further right now and doesn't want to get his hopes up.
Lambert told him he will never expect anything, and will happily take whatever Aiden is willing to give him.
The rutting is already much more than he assumed he would get for a long time.
Nails dig into his shoulders and Lambert moans, tries to say Aiden’s name again but it comes out mostly slurred. He feels Aiden lap at the blood that bubbles up from the wound and groans, lashes fluttering.
“Mine,” Aiden repeats, and sinks his teeth in again, just over Lambert’s left clavicle.
He whimpers in response, hands moving to Aiden’s waist to steady himself. The Cat growls, snatching him by the wrists and pinning his hands next to his head, shoving him to lay back in the same motion. He stares up at his mate, wide-eyed and panting. Aiden’s eyes are blown, all black-pupil and heated lust, looking at Lambert like he’s ready to devour him.
“Can do what you want to me,” Lambert finds himself saying, “I’m yours. Just - might come if you keep doing that.”
Aiden licks his lips and presses Lambert down harder, “Stay.” He commands and Lambert can only nod in response, willing to do anything Aiden asks of him. He’ll let his Cat lead, because he’s never had a choice before and now that he does Lambert wants to make sure Aiden knows he has control, he won’t be made to do anything. And Lambert will take anything he can get, his whole body aching with desire to be touched - to be taken and claimed.
Teeth graze his right nipple through his shirt and he shudders - fabric tears and he can’t even bring himself to be upset because those teeth are sinking back into his flesh, into his peck - he cries out, body jerking in response, heat flooding his veins. The beading blood is lapped up again and Aiden moves further down.
He’s sprinkled with bite marks, on each of his hips, just over the little padding of fat that hangs over his pants, his shoulder, his bicep. Aiden doesn’t travel below the belt, but Lambert feels like a well decorated Yule tree by the end of the hour, though he’s a bit too busy writhing and whining and trying desperately not to come in his breeches to linger on that thought. He keeps his hands where Aiden placed them. The only time in his long life he’s ever been obedient and he chooses now.
“Aiden,” he pleads. “Aiden, please.”
A curious chirp answers him, Aiden has been over the possessive growling for a while, now seemingly happy with how he has marked his Wolf and has taken to purring and licking the wounds clean, sucking, nipping and nuzzling lazily in between.
“Gotta- let me go so I can, hnng, go take care of this.”
Another curious sound, like Aiden has no idea what Lambert is talking about - Like Lambert can’t feel the protrusion in Aiden’s own breeches.
“C’mon, you’re killing me. At least let me go jack off or something.”
A confused noise this time.
“I want to come, you bastard,” Lambert grates out, embarrassed.
Aiden’s head tilts, curious, eyes settling on the Wolf Witcher’s very obvious erection. He trills, shuffles up the bed and goes back to kissing and licking Lambert’s neck.
“Ah- Aiden,” his fingers twitch and Aiden growls a warning at the movement, right next to his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “Aiden,” Lambert tries again, “I-” he sucks in a sharp breath, interrupted when the Witcher above him shifts, and suddenly there is a hand cupping him through the rough linen of his breeches - “Wait, stop,” Lambert hisses, forcing his body still despite his every muscle coiling.
Aiden goes stone-still, “No?”
“This is fucking amazing, but are you sure? You just said yesterday that you weren’t ready.”
Aiden hums, “Okay to touch,” he says, kissing Lambert behind the ear softly.
“I don’t know what that means.”
Aiden huffs, obviously displeased at being interrupted then made to explain himself, but it's important. Lambert’s never been great at communicating even when people haven't lost most of their ability to speak and he has to be sure he's not misunderstanding.
“We need to talk, Aiden. I can’t just assume, I need to know what’s going on.”
Aiden hums again, this one sounding more gentle - more warm.
“I touch Lamb.”
“Yeah, you are. And that’s okay with you?”
Aiden pulls back to glare, as if saying it’s obviously okay, then swipes a thumb over one of his many bites, “Okay,” he assures.
“Do you want me to touch you back?”
A growl and Aiden’s face twisting into an ugly (really rather arousing, which Lambert isn’t going to reflect on presently) snarl, “Stay,” he repeats the command from earlier and Lambert’s breath hitches.
“Alright, you want me to not move and just let you have your way with me?”
Aiden growls again, lowers himself back to where he can scrape his teeth along Lambert’s carotid, “Mine.”
“Fuck,” Lambert shivers with the delight that races down his spine, “Yeah, yes, okay. Whatever you want, ju—ah,” his head is tossed back as Aiden resumes fondling him through his pants, “Just as long as you want it. Don’t - fuck - force yourself.”
“No force,” Aiden agrees easily, and Lambert is relieved.
“Good. Cuz I - don’t mind taking care of it myself if I-”
He’s cut off with another, sharper growl, the hand that’s cupping him squeezing, and Aiden hissing out, “Mine.”
Lambert groans at the pressure. He’s always been into a little pain with his pleasure. And the implication Aiden is making, squeezing his cock and declaring it his - “Fucking claim me already, then,” he challenges.
He’s laying limp and happy on the bed thirty minutes later, cum in his braies, covered in bites and scratches with Aiden curled up and purring, draped over him. He kisses the Cat Witcher on the top of his head and Aiden trills happily in response. He sighs, sated and happy. Being rubbed off through his trousers was a little embarrassing, coming in them perhaps even moreso, but the little lick of shame stoked the fire even more, and if Aiden wasn’t comfortable touching him skin-to-skin, well… He honestly can’t complain if he’s coming either way.
He makes it down to the springs a while later, stripping and dumping his soiled clothes into the wash basins to deal with later.
Eskel and Coën are sitting in a pool with Kiyan and Letho.
“What the fuck mauled you?” Eskel asks as he slips into the hot water.
Lambert smirks, settles onto one of the low, stone benches, “Aiden.”
“What was he trying to do, eat you?”
Lambert snorts, “Nah. Said he wanted to mark me as his.”
“Well, that’s certainly one way to do that,” Kiyan mutters, head tilting at the sight Lambert is making with open curiosity.
“So you let him chew on you?” Eskel continues.
“Why not,” Lambert shrugs, “Makes him happy. Plus he made sure I knew how much he appreciated it.”
“Yeah, thanks for stinking up the place,” Letho mutters.
“Jealous.”
“Got my own Cat, don’t you worry, pup.”
It’s probably meant to rile him up, probably would have a scant few weeks ago. Now, he just turns to Coën and asks, “How you holding up?”
“Fine, all things considered.” He’s still got a haunted look to his eyes, though. Late in the nights, when all the fires and candles are out in the keep, he pushes open the door to his and Aiden’s room, crawls into bed with them and curls around Aiden like they’re still trying to protect one another.
Lambert doesn’t mind. He’s glad he can provide a safe space for them both.
Once, when Aiden slipped out to relieve himself down the hall, Coën pushed into Lambert’s space, clinging and whimpering in his half-asleep state even as the Wolf stroked fingers through his hair and muttered that he was safe now. It was a bit strange, having Coën cling like that. Having him so vulnerable and in his bed. Lambert has never been very cuddly even as a young kid. Perhaps it had been beaten out of him by his father, perhaps he had never quite found the right people to be cuddly with because… having Coën or Aiden tucked into his chest, curled in his arms, feels nice.
He likes having their breath tickling the skin of his neck. Likes the feeling of their hair against his cheeks, knowing they are safe and cared for and feel that way because of him. The responsibility of caring for them settles something in him that has roiled his entire life. Rage, pain, confusion and misery all quiet with a simple act of trust that Lambert, of all people, is able to protect them. That they choose him, come to him willingly, even if Coën is mostly there for Aiden, it’s a gift.
It’s also nice watching Aiden interact with the other Cats and slaves they saved from the caravan. He talks to them in his little chirps and broken words, shows them around the keep, teaches them how to read alongside Jaskier, teaches them how to care for the animals alongside Eskel, and how to care for the keep alongside Vesemir. It's amazing to watch him flourish and show his personality - to help others come out of that scared place he too managed to escape.
It’s been years since the keep has housed so many, going from seven to nearly forty overnight and the maintenance required increases to match. They have to fix up enough rooms for the number of people there are now, all timid and in a very similar state to Aiden, though only one or two have the same kind of collar that he did and they are quickly taken off.
It turns out that Aiden losing his ability to speak after having the collar removed was not a fluke, but one of the failsafes enchanted into it, as both of the others who have theirs removed are left with similarly limited communication abilities. A way to ensure they weren’t able to share Cat secrets, Triss had told them, but a small price to pay for their regained freedom.
“Good,” Lambert smiles and relaxes back into the pool.
Eskel, Geralt, Jaskier, Letho and Gaetan do leave after a week or so, back to the path and continuing to slay monsters. Kiyan sees them off, but decides to stay and help his brothers and sisters heal as best as he can. He was the first Cat to escape, and he feels guilty for not being able to save them sooner.
Aiden gets restless another month or so after that. Lambert finds him in increasingly strange and dangerous places, up in the rafters, hanging from a battlement or window of a tower. He chitters happily when Lambert finds him and slinks over to press his cold nose into Lambert’s warm neck, nipping softly at the tender flesh that’s often still bruised and bitten from their evenings spent with Aiden claiming Lambert.
They still haven’t gone much further than Aiden’s hands on him, and on himself. The one time Aiden let him watch him touch himself Lambert was pretty sure he had died and gone to wherever the fuck saints went to get their gifts and shit because, holy fuck was that hot. But he’s in no rush, Aiden will be ready when he’s ready for more and Lambert will take it with as close to grace as he can get.
The point is, Aiden gets restless. The keep is bigger than his cells in the caravan, sure, but now that he’s had a taste of travelling and the outdoors he wants to see as much of the world as he can get his greedy little hands on. Lambert says greedy because Aiden has taken to ‘collecting’ items that are not technically his.
He borrows Lambert’s tunics, took some shiny hair pins from Jasskier, and even nabbed some glass marbles with swirls of colour in them from Eskel, who got them as payment for something. All these he keeps in a bag and coos over them, hissing or growling when anyone other than Lambert or Coën shows any kind of interest in them. It’s rather cute, actually. Good thing none of those people want their items back.
Lambert had been worried about Jaskier's hairpins - vain little thing that he is - but he'd just laughed and taught Aiden how to open them and put them in his hair. Now, more often that not, Lambert is forced to have some kind of shiny bauble in his hair. He'd be upset about it but... Aiden just looks so happy about it he can't bring himself to be angry.
They do decide to leave, though. Because Lambert doesn’t want Aiden to decide that stealing things in the keep is going to be the thing he does to stave off his wanderlust.
They make it down the mountain after saying their farewells, promising to return come autumn. Vesemir looks rather overwhelmed that two of his main helpers are departing, but the world does still need Witchers and Aiden has also taken to hiding knives, especially those from the kitchen, which has been getting on Vesemir’s nerves. (Lambert finds those knives tucked away on Aiden’s person the nights they vanish, the behaviour is defended with a sheepish, “Shiny,” from the Cat. Lambert forges him a dagger soon after, made of silver, that Aiden keeps tucked into his belt and trills over happily every morning when he attaches it to his person.)
They head back along the route they had been taking, before everything went to shit.
It’s a few weeks after they’ve re-departed and the day has turned to night. Stars are shining in the sky far above the canopy of trees that they’ve taken as their shelter and Lambert lounges with his Cat pressed to his side. There’s a small break in the leaves above them, just wide enough for them see those stars glittering like diamonds so far above them. A memory hits Lambert, settling on his chest like a bag of bricks and suddenly his pack, sitting only a few feet away, burns scorch marks into the grass. He’d forgotten. In all of the mess that was saving Aiden, he’d forgotten…
Aiden huffs from where he’s sat next to him on a log, a small fire a few feet away slowly roasting the rabbits that his Cat caught. One is missing an ear, because Aiden gnawed it off like the feral little creature he is, but he’d still presented them to Lambert with a pleased chirp and an expectant look that demanded praise that he was very quickly getting not only used to, but insistent upon. He returns it in his own way, kissing down Lambert’s throat and muttering, “Pretty, pretty Witcher,” as the sun set. Now, the sun is mostly down and Aiden is growing impatient that the food is not ready. Lambert swallows, nerves rising as he decides that now is as good a time as any.
“Hey, uh, Aiden?”
“Yes?” His speaking has gotten a little better in the few months that have passed, but they understand each other well enough without it. Still, it’s nice to hear Aiden’s breathy voice say his name, or excitedly point out things he sees as they walk that he likes.
Lambert stands and walks over to his bag, shuffling around in one of the side pockets until his fingers close around that velvet bag, “I got you something.”
Aiden perks up, “Oh? Present?”
“Yeah, I got you a present.”
Aiden chitters, curious and excited.
Lambert sits on the ground in front of Aiden, cheeks flushed pink, and holds out the bag, “S’not much but,” he shrugs and Aiden cradles the bag so gently that Lambert feels his heart swell in his chest. He doesn’t deserve this man.
With careful, clever fingers, Aiden unties and opens tha bag, then gently tips the contents into his palm and gasps, “Eyes,” he mutters, holding up the dangling topaz earrings so Lambert can see them.
“Yeah, you said they looked like my eyes. I went back and got them for you, before… well, anyways. I hope you still like them.”
Aiden’s lower lip wobbles and for one horrifying moment Lambert thinks he hates them, but as the first tear falls he watches Aiden cradle the gift to his chest.
“Present,” Aiden says again, sniffling, his voice awed and broken.
“Glad you like it,” Lambert chuckles, relieved, “Gonna have to pierce your ears if you wanna wear ‘em, though.”
Aiden makes a soft, confused sound and it occurs to Lambert that Aiden probably didn’t know what these were when he saw them, just saw shiny stones the colour of Lambert’s eyes and decided he wanted them. That’s fine too, if they’re just another shiny thing for Aiden to coo over then put away again.
“They’re meant to go in your ears,” Lambert explains, then demonstrates with his own single stud.
Aiden tilts his head as he observes, then holds the jewelry out to Lambert, “Pierce ears.”
“You want me to? It’ll hurt.”
“Trust, okay.”
“Alright, but if you want me to stop you say so.”
“Say so,” Aiden agrees, “So, so, so.”
Lambert snorts, “Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?”
Aiden nods, very serious, “Funny Aiden.”
Lambert fetches his suturing kit while Aiden continues to chatter away to himself, it’s really very cute, and returns after sterilizing the needle. He uses a bit of kohl to mark where the holes will go, makes sure it’s even on either side, and gets to work.
Aiden doesn’t react past the scrunching of his nose. Lambert didn’t really think he would, he’s been through much worse, but he still wanted to offer an out. It’s important to him that Aiden continues to know that he always has a choice, they’re still working on healing and reinforcing that he is autonomous. Aiden struggles to believe he is free, and on rare occasions wakes thinking he is still in captivity. Those days are the hardest, where Aiden forgets who Lambert is and falls to his knees, begs for forgiveness that doesn’t need to be asked for. He comes out of it usually by mid-day, exhausted, sad, afraid and needing comfort.
Lambert always tucks him up in their bedroll and gives him some soup before cuddling up and reading to him. It soothes both of their frayed nerves.
The good days are like this, with Aiden fully there and trusting Lambert to hold a needle to his skin. The jewelry hangs, the amber of the gems accenting his caramel skin and verdant eyes, glinting with the light of the fire. He’s beautiful.
“Here,” Lambert fetches him a mirror and Aiden chitters at the sight it reflects back at him. He caresses the gems with a finger, a cluster of stones dangling from each ear.
Lambert finds himself pressed into the dirt on his back barely a second later, too quickly for him to react, and Aiden kissing him all over. Nipping, licking, marking.
“Yours,” Aiden breathes into the sensitive skin behind Lambert’s ear, and his breath hitches.
“Y-yeah?” Teeth sink into his clavicle and Lambert has to force back the groan that threatens to rise in his throat.
“Mine.”
Lambert understands then, and sucks in a sharp breath, “Those are your marks, huh? These mark you as mine?” He brushes one of the dangling gems with a thumb and Aiden purrs.
Aiden has belonged to a lot of people, but Lambert is the first that he chose. The first he wanted. He set him free, showed him what life could be.
Lambert has never belonged to anybody, nor has he belonged anywhere. He’s never been wanted by anyone, yet somehow this Cat came out of fucking nowhere and decided he was worth something. Worth trust and love-
Lambert is going to give it all back tenfold.
It feels good to belong to someone.
It feels even better to have Aiden be his, and to have chosen that.