otherworlderotic
Ciri and Tommon followed the woman – Triss, a sorceress, Ciri explained – through the polished oak door into her home, which exuded a quiet elegance typical of the affluent quarter of the city. She led them into her study, a room lined with towering bookshelves brimming with ancient tomes and artifacts that seemed to hum with latent magic. The air was tinged with the scent of old parchment and exotic herbs. Tommon glanced around with wide eyes as he reflected that each artifact and book was likely worth more than his entire village.
As they settled into plush chairs, Triss disappeared into another room, returning with a tray of steaming tea far quicker than should be possible. “I thought I recognized you,” Triss remarked, pouring the tea into elegant glasses. “Didn’t you perform at the White Stag last week? Your ballad really captured the crowd.”
Tommon, a hint of pride flashing in his eyes, nodded. “Yes, that was me,” he said. “Always good to meet a fan.” But he was surprised his reputation had traveled even into these refined circles.
Ciri rolled her eyes. “Triss, he doesn’t need any more encouragement,” she said, though her tone was light. Triss responded with a knowing wink to Tommon, causing him to suppress a grin.
Ciri leaned forward slightly. “Triss, there’s a reason we’re here today. Tommon’s been consuming witcher potions without any adverse effects. I’m concerned it might be affecting him. Can you help us understand what’s going on?”
Triss’s smile faded into a more serious expression. “Straight to business, just like Geralt,” she observed with a chuckle, though her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Tommon noticed how Ciri seemed to preen under the comparison. Over the months, he had patched together a view of what this mysterious man – Geralt – meant to her. She was tight-lipped about him, but he clearly was something of a father figure to her.
“How much witcher potion have you consumed, Tommon?” Triss asked, pulling him out of his reflections.
Tommon produced the nearly empty vial from his pocket. “All of this in just two weeks,” Ciri explained, speaking for him.
Triss took the vial from him, examining it with a critical eye. Her eyebrows arched in surprise. “You should be dead,” she stated flatly. Tommon swallowed hard, his earlier bravado faltering under the weight of Triss’s words.
“This really is unusual,” Triss mused. “Let’s get you examined, Tommon. Please, follow me.”
Triss rose, leading them to a small adjoining room that served as her laboratory. The air here was heavy with the scent of alchemy—pungent and sharp. Tommon, now a bundle of nerves, could only nod as he followed her, his footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor. Ciri gave him a reassuring pat as they settled into the space.
The sorceress deftly selected various instruments from a neatly organized array. She then gestured to a padded examination table, its surface covered with a clean, white cloth. "I take noble clients here for consultations on occasion. Please, take off your shirt and sit," she instructed Tommon. "I must assess how the potion interacts with your body, alchemically and along arcane channels."
Tommon complied, removing his shirt and revealing his somewhat softer form from his new life in taverns. He sat on the edge of the table, feeling nervous and exposed. Ciri, her arms folded, watched the proceedings with an intense gaze, her protective instincts clearly on alert.
With gentle hands, Triss began palpating Tommon’s neck, pressing softly to feel for abnormalities. "This might feel a bit cold," she murmured as her hands moved across his skin, her touch infused with a subtle magic that chilled his skin.
Turning to Ciri, Triss's voice carried a note of contemplation. "Ciri, could you fetch some azure bane from Master Alaric’s shop? I’ll have Tommon chew on it, and we’ll see if it has any effect after he ingests the potion."
"Of course, good idea. I'll be back as quickly as I can," Ciri responded, her tone brisk. With a final glance at Tommon, she hurried out, leaving the room with a new, focused silence.
With Ciri gone, Triss’s examination became more intense. She gently pushed him onto his back, laying his head in her hands. She retrieved a small, intricate device from her collection, holding it over Tommon's stomach. The device hummed softly as she moved it slowly across his skin. Tommon watched, fascinated and somewhat uneasy, as the device traced invisible patterns significant only to Triss.
Next, she placed her hands directly on Tommon’s chest, her eyes closing as she began to chant softly under her breath. The words were in an ancient tongue, melodious and flowing, and as she spoke, her hands grew warmer, the heat radiating into Tommon’s body. He heard a rhythm in her words, a song calling him. As he listened, he could feel a tingling sensation spreading through his torso. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was unlike anything he had ever experienced.
Throughout the process, Triss's expression was one of deep concentration; her brow furrowed as she worked on him. Shortly, Triss completed her initial checks with a nod. "You're in surprisingly good health, Tommon. Are you certain you’ve been consuming that potion? Not some other potent liquid? It really doesn’t make any sense.”
“Completely certain. It’s like fire in my veins; there’s nothing else like it.” Tommon responded from his position flat on his back. He was enjoying the view it gave him of Triss’ cleavage from her low-cut dress.
“Fine then. Well, nothing left to do except have you take the potion," she said, her voice steady despite the curiosity lighting her eyes.
Tommon reached for the vial and with no hesitation tipped the last of the potion into his mouth. He swallowed it down in one fluid motion. Triss's sharp intake of breath echoed in the quiet room, her eyes widening slightly at the boldness of his action. “That was a lot, Tommon. Are you well?”
As the familiar pressure built behind his eyes, Tommon relaxed into the sensation. It was like an old, worn cloak being draped over his shoulders. And, of course, along with the mental clarity and heightened senses came the other usual side effect: a firm and insistent arousal.
Triss noticed the change immediately, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth once she realized he wouldn’t be harmed. She resumed her examination, her hands moving over his chest once more. This time, however, her touch lingered longer than necessary, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles with a tactile curiosity that strayed from purely medical interest.
Feeling the shift in the atmosphere, Tommon let his hand dangle off the side of the table, his fingers brushing against Triss's leg. She maneuvered subtly, positioning herself so his hand rested against her thigh. The contact was light, possibly innocent. He responded by gently stroking her thigh through the fabric of her dress, an action far less innocent.
"You do indeed seem fine," Triss commented, her voice a touch breathier than before.
"More than fine," Tommon replied, shifting slightly on the table. He adjusted his position, his arousal now clearly outlined against the fabric of his trousers. The memory of his unresolved tension from earlier that day surged to the forefront of his mind, intensifying his current state.
Triss's eyes followed the movement, her professional facade faltering for a moment as she took in the full extent of his arousal. Her hands on his body continued to explore, but Tommon had the feeling there was no longer any clinical intent. They dipped lower and lower until they slid briefly under the waistband of his breeches, tracing the line of his hips.
Suspicions confirmed.
Tommon was now rather enjoying himself. He began to hum subconsciously—a tune that seemed to flow from him as naturally as breathing.
When the first notes manifested, Triss gasped and suddenly pulled away from him. Her eyes, wide with sudden realization, locked onto his. "Keep doing that," she urged, her voice tinged with excitement.
"Doing what?" Tommon asked, genuinely puzzled.
"The humming," she explained hastily. "Keep humming!"
Tommon, still confused, resumed his humming with a soft, aimless melody. As the sound vibrated through the air, Triss closed her eyes in concentration, then gasped again.
"Your humming—it's altering the potion's effect. It’s stabilizing the chaos within it," Triss marveled, her tone filled with wonder. Tommon's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and Triss hurried to clarify. "You're doing something magical with your music. It's not just sound; it's... it's enchantment. Quick, can you sing something?"
Tommon had no idea what she meant. In any case, he cleared his throat and began to sing a quiet improvised song, one that spoke of distant shores and whispered winds. Triss closed her eyes, listening intently, her breath held fast.
As the song wove through the room, Triss murmured, almost to herself, "I can detect the potion being broken down, metabolized by some arcane process. There’s no precedent for this."
Tommon stopped singing, shrugging slightly. Her words meant nothing to him.
"This is extraordinary," Triss whispered, her voice low. "Let's explore every aspect of this phenomenon." Her eyes opened, and they settled directly onto his straining arousal.
“Well, what would you like me to do?” Tommon asked. “What would make things… more thorough?”
Triss’s hand glided across his breeches, settling bolder over his erection.
"Perhaps I should remove my breeches for a more thorough examination?" He said. “If you think that would help, that is.”
"Yes, that might be necessary," she agreed, trailing her fingers along his length.
Confidently, Tommon slid his breeches off. His firmness protruded prominently, lying against his stomach. He lay back on the cool surface of the examination table, hands behind his head.
“Well,” Triss’s eyes widened, and her voice became breathy. “There is a lot of unpack here. I should get busy.”
Triss positioned herself beside the table. She began by gently exploring his chest with one hand, her fingers tracing his muscles with a tender touch. Gradually, her exploration drifted lower, her fingertips ghosting over his skin with tantalizing slowness.
Her other hand rose to join her first. She touched him lightly at first, her fingertips barely brushing against his length, gauging his reactions. Tommons cock quivered, pressing into her hand.
“Oh,” she muttered with a smile, then her fingers wrapped around his shaft. One hand closed around him, and then another.
Tommon tilted his hips, pumping into her hands with his eyes closed, reveling in the softness of her uncalloused fingers. She held him in one hand, stroking his length, while the other trailed softly against his head. Tommon moaned as she circled his tip, her thumb brushing against his slit.
Moving on its own accord, his hand rose, slipping into the folds of her dress cleavage, hunting for her breasts. His fingers caressed their swell, teasing and exploring. He grazed her nipple with a gentle pinch, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Triss—a sound that mingled surprise with pleasure.
"Is this helping your examination?" Tommon asked.
"Yes, very much so," Triss replied, her voice catching slightly as her body responded to his touch. Tommon tugged on her neckline, revealing her nipples as she slid up and down his cock. She leaned into his caress, letting go of him for just a moment to open her dress, giving him easier access.
Triss shifted her position, pulling back. She beckoned Tommon forward, and he eagerly moved to the table's edge, spreading his legs. His breath caught in his throat as Triss knelt gracefully before him. Her eyes never leaving him, she leaned forward, her breath warm against his skin. One hand rested lightly on his thigh while the other continued to fondle him, moving lower to cup his balls.
“I think I need to try… other methods,” she said, her exhalation ghosting across his straining manhood.
Leaning closer, Triss kissed his tip softly, her lips barely grazing him before suddenly enveloping him fully. She worked his cock, her tongue coating him in her saliva, swirling around him in intricate patterns that sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body.
“Fuck,” Tommon uttered breathlessly. She was good at this.
Her tongue ran from the tip, licking the ridge and down his shaft, lapping along the base where her other hand gently kneaded his balls. His fingers gripped the edges of the examination table, the wood creaking slightly as his knuckles turned white.
She took him in, down – deeper – all the way to the back of her throat. She bobbed there, saliva dribbling down the sides of her mouth as her throat tightened around him. It was too much; he was close.
"Let go," her voice rang out in his mind, even as he filled her throat. With that, Tommon reached that breaking point. His release was sudden and intense, his body shuddering as waves of pleasure washed over him. His warm seed spilled out as Triss' lips gripped him like a vice, and he emptied himself deep in her throat. Some escaped, streaking across her face, white against her flushed skin.
She finally released him from her mouth, her hand sliding along his dripping cock. Only then did he open his eyes to see Triss staring down at him, his release around her lips and a very pleased look on her face.
“A powerful potion indeed,” she mused, wiping her mouth. “Let’s see how far it can go.”
Despite his release's intensity, the potion's effects kept Tommon rock hard. He grinned. Triss lifted her dress, gathering it around her hips and laying back on the examination table. Tommon took up a commanding position in front of her. Spreading her legs apart, he stepped forward, his manhood in his hand and her glistening sex in front of him.
Just as he positioned his tip at her entrance, Triss’ head snapped toward the door as it swung open abruptly.
Ciri stood there, surprised, with irritation written on her face as she took in the scene before her. In her hands, the azure bane herbs she was sent to retrieve scattered to the floor, a few leaves fluttering down.
“Triss! Tommon! What the fuck!” Ciri said as Triss scrambled to pull down her dress, pushing Tommon away.
Ciri rubbed her eyes in frustration. “I leave you alone for ten minutes, and this is what you get up to?” She sighed as she fell into one of the plush chairs in the room. With a flick of her wrist, Triss marshaled some unseen force to cleanse herself, erasing Tommon’s remaining release on her face.
Tommon, caught quite literally with his trousers down, turned to face Ciri, his expression one of confusion. “What?” He said lamely. “Why are you… Do I detect jealousy? From you, of all people?” His tone held genuine confusion.
Ciri rolled her eyes. “It’s not about jealousy,” she retorted sharply. “We can discuss this later.” She sighed and stood, retrieving the herbs. “Did you least uncover something useful, or did you busy yourself with rutting the entire time I was away?”
Tommon hastily shrugged his breeches and shirt back on as Triss, now entirely composed and dressed, cleared her throat.
"Yes, indeed we did," she said. Her voice was steady as if her lips weren’t wrapped around his throbbing length moments before. "In fact, we have some very interesting findings indeed.”
“Yeah, I’m magic,” Tommon said, wiggling his fingers at Ciri.
She looked at him through partially lidded eyes, thoroughly unamused.
Triss hesitated. “He’s… not exactly wrong. It appears Tommon’s musical ability might be acting as a conduit for organizing magical energies, which is helping him absorb the potions."
Ciri furrowed her brows, clearly baffled. "I've never heard of such a thing," she said.
Triss gave a slight shrug, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "I'm not the most knowledgeable scholar of the arcane, but I cannot recall hearing of anything remotely like this."
Tommon, still deeply confused, spoke up, "Does this mean I'm… a sorcerer?"
Triss laughed. "Not in the slightest, but you certainly have a unique magical talent. We need to explore this carefully." She turned her gaze to Ciri, her expression serious. "Ciri, you should take him to Aretuza immediately to be examined."
Ciri nodded, though Tommon could see a hint of hesitation in her eyes.
"Is this whole thing… dangerous?" Tommon asked.
Triss paused, considering her answer. "It's hard to tell. Dealing with the chaos of the arcane is always dangerous, but you seem to be organizing it non-destructively. For now."
Both women fell silent for a moment, pondering the implications. Tommon, feeling the weight of the situation, began to pace. "I have a show to perform tonight, at the Gilded Bell, no less," he reminded them.
Ciri gave him a flat look. "Not anymore."
Tommon sighed.
≋ ≋ ≋
Once outside in the quiet upper-class street, Tommon broached the subject that had been nagging at him far more than any questions of spells and singing. "Ciri, what’s wrong? You seemed really bothered back there with Triss," he asked.
Ciri halted, turning to face him with a flat, unamused expression. "Tommon, you can fuck anyone you want. You know this. But Triss is…” she paused, reaching for the right word. “She helped raise me. She's practically my aunt," she explained, her voice tinged with discomfort. "It’s just... gross. Don’t fuck her."
Tommon blinked, taken aback. "She seems so young, though," he remarked, genuinely confused.
"Sorceresses age impossibly slow," Ciri clarified, her face serious. "Triss is old enough to be your grandmother."
Tommon's eyebrows shot up in surprise, then he shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Lovliest grandmother I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet," he said.
Ciri's punched him on the arm. It hurt. "She’s off limits," she stated firmly. Tommon nodded in acknowledgment, the playful smile still on his face as he rubbed his sore arm.
"So, about my potion thing. Are we going to Aretuza then?" Tommon asked.
Ciri shook her head emphatically. "No way. I’m not throwing you into that den of snakes," she said. Her voice carried a hint of scorn as she continued, "Sorceresses and wizards... not a one of them can be trusted. They’ve lived too long, become too crafty and powerful. Aretuza is a vipers den, even I can’t protect you there. Not that my strength would do much good, it’s all politics and intrigue there. Shadow alliances and knives in the dark."
Tommon nodded slowly, his mind racing. He was way, way out of his depth. "What do we do then? I need more of your potion, in any case," he pointed out.
Ciri’s expression hardened. "I still need an alchemical kit, mind you. And I know where we can get some answers and find one of those," she said.
He looked at her expectantly. "Where?"
"Where the witchers gather—Kaer Morhen," Ciri said, her eyes locking with his.
Tommon gulped.
End of Prequel
I hope you enjoyed the prequel for Lessons in Swordplay!
Tommon and Ciri have quite the adventure in front of them – and it will involve both kinds of swordplay.
While I work on the rest of Tommon and Ciri’s story, I’ll still release new weekly content for otherworlderotic! Keep in touch by following on Patreon, Discord, or any social channel. I hope to see you there!
With love, Theo Hartley
