Geralt Of Rivia

The steam from the bathwater curled lazily in the candlelit bathing room, heavy with the scent of lavender and cedar. You were guided carefully into the warm embrace of Geralt, feeling the hard planes of his body grounding yours. His voice, low and rumbling, reassured you as his hands explored reverently, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 'You’re perfect like this,' he murmured, making it unmistakably clear—you belonged entirely to him.