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Coën was used to nudity in a form, his brothers changing in the dorms or the occasional bed-mate. He was not uncomfortable with bodies, be they man or woman or Witcher but there was a difference in comfort and display and the Wolves? They were obscene.
Lambert slept naked as a babe and Coën only knew that because he didn’t care to put on clothes before opening his chamber door. Geralt liked to lounge on the warm stones of the hot springs with nary a scrap of cloth to cover himself. Eskel… well. Eskel usually wore pants wherever Coën happened upon him but he sat with his thighs splayed wide - come to think of it, it may have been less obscene if he were naked.
They were all men. They were all Witchers who had walked the path no less than a decade each. There was no reason that his cheeks should flush or his cock twitch at the sight of skin.
But he’d never walked in on so many instances of someone pleasuring themself as he had in the two months of living in Kaer Morhen. Sometimes he heard them, able to avoid the sight and his own embarrassment at reacting to it because, really, a single word of invitation would be enough to convince him to join in those moments. Not that they would. He knew that Geralt was quiet, looking to get off quick. He knew that Eskel liked to tease himself and had no shame in the low moans that echoed off the stone halls. Lambert… Lambert was noisy and it was him that most often haunted Coën’s dreams and left him waking hard with nothing to do about it because the others were awake and about and it was frustrating .
It all came to a head just before the new year. Coën joined Lambert in the springs after dinner, arriving later than the Wolf to find him sprawled lazily on the bench in the water. Coën stripped and slipped into a spot across the pool from him.
“Good day?” Lambert asked.
“Mmhm.” He responded as he washed.
Too late he realized the lazy roll of Lambert’s shoulder was methodical and Coën… he didn’t know what to do. Except he was more than a little pent up and Lambert hadn’t a lick of shame in his bones.
“You’re going to get off here? Really?” Coёn growled.
“Yeah. Got a problem with it?” Lambert grinned, unrepentant and irredeemable.
“I-“
Lambert continued over his answer “Been trying to get you to relax and have fun for weeks, thought you’d join one of us sooner or later but you just keep holding back, you’re tenser than a lady on her wedding night.”
“You- trying? ” Coën spluttered. It didn’t make sense. Or, then again maybe it did.
“Yeah, think we always get off so much with the doors cracked? Fuckin’ cold in those halls.” Lambert rolled his hips, still obscured by the water. “You come over here right now and I’ll suck you off, might even get two rounds in before the others come down.”
Coën felt as though he might pass out with how quickly his blood rushed south and he stumbled as he rose to his feet. Lambert caught his hip in one hand and guided him to stand above the Wolf. The water barely covered his cock when standing and Lambert took it in hand, slowly working over the length of it.
Coën felt his orgasm hit but the pleasure warred with mortification for it was on the third stroke of Lambert’s hand- the pleasure quickly won out though as Lambert dipped down to seal his lips over the head. Coën dug fingers into his own thigh to keep from pulling the Wolf’s hair.
“Knew you were pent up.” Lambert said, licking cum from his lips. “I would very much like to fuck you, right here on this ledge.” Coën swallowed and took a few deep breaths.
“ Yes.” Usually he was the one in charge, working girls generally weren’t comfortable taking charge in bed with a Witcher and Coën enjoyed the game of it - making someone shake for him. But in that moment? With Lambert looking up at him with dark eyes and a pleading expression that Coën was sure no one had ever seen before?
“Yeah, fuck me.”
Lambert opened him on oil slick fingers, taking time to press biting kisses across the breadth of his shoulders. Coën whimpered, just a bit, when Lambert pushed into him and in response the Wolf ran his nose up the column of Coën’s neck.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah you can- ah!” If he’d been asked what he thought Lambert was like in bed he’d have said the wolf was a selfish lover. He was not. He pushed Coën to the edge of orgasm and then over it before chasing his own pleasure mercilessly. It left the Griffin shaking and breathless, wordlessly begging for more.
Lambert finished and tugged Coën around for a kiss, lowering them both to sit on the stone shelf in the water.
They basked in silence for a while until Coën broke it.
“An invitation…” he hummed “Here I thought you wolves simply had no modesty.”
“Well,” Lambert laughed, “that too.”