[ The road can wait, neither the mountain nor the towns and monsters are going to disappear while they have a tumble in the sheets. Perhaps if more witcher cuddled they would lead happier lives, no one says one can't snuggle up to their boyfriends in the morning and go hunt bruxas in the afternoon. Jaskier doesn't call him a cuddle to his face, of course, lest the man actually stops, but he smiles every time Geralt pulls him closer.
He isn't smiling now but there's no less passion. The pleasant buzz of alcohol is now gone, the tense situation from before managed to sober him up. Jaskier doesn't like to think about why he started to drink so much tonight so he gets drunk on Geralt instead. He hadn't been aiming to find someone to share his bed with intentionally but he also didn't discourage the maiden when he should have done it and for that he is sorry. It's not in Jaskier's nature to cause pain or be vicious but even he can be rather unhinged when pushed enough.
When Geralt starts walking them back to the bed JAaskier's hand move to his shirt, pull and push at the same time, as if trying to tear it off of him while simultaneously urging the man faster towards the mattress. He rewards that squeeze to his ass with a grunt against Geralt's lips and his nails rack down the man's chest once he's gotten the shirt out of the way, with force enough to leave scratches.
He's angry. Worse of it, he's also desperate to make Geralt forget about Yennefer of fucking Vengerberg, to rid them both of her smell and her wit and the fascinating eyes. He really shouldn't be the one who is, shouldn't care so much about a man who will eventually go back to her, but life rarely goes the way he wants it. He's in love with a Witcher of all people, he's forever screwed.
Jaskier slaps Geralt's hands away once they get on the bed yet climbs him all the same, just not straddling his lap but only one of his thighs. He doesn't need to be prompted, thank you very much, he knows what he's doing. Except he doesn't and it's mostly being driven by his passions, always a dangerous thing for a bard.
His right-hand closes around a handful of Geralt's hair after the kiss stops, gripping his nape and tugging hard. Geralt has the option of pulling Jaskier of the bed or tilting his head back and exposing his neck. If he chooses the later, Jaskier will hungrily sink his teeth on the exposed skin. Until then, the bard shifts and presses a knee between Geralt's legs, grinding down the front of his pants and adding pressure to his straining cock. ]
[Geralt hisses when Jaskier's nails go down his chest and he loves the scratches they leave behind, having helped get his shirt off as quickly as possible. He has a lot of complex emotions that he'd like to ignore entirely at the moment, and being lost in sex and desire seems like the absolute best way to get there. He loves Jaskier's heated body under his hands and wants to press him down onto the mattress, wants to fuck the breath out of him. He also doesn't want to think about Yennefer of fucking Vengerberg or the regrets she causes, either between them or with him and Jaskier.
He groans and reacts positively to every time Jaskier seems to be aggressive, moving with him, slapping his hands, straddling his thigh. Then his fingers go into his hair and he tugs tight and Geralt's breath catches. When he bites down on Geralt's neck, exposed despite himself, the witcher actually whimpers and takes it. He's insanely turned on and he wants Jaskier on him, around him, and then, shockingly, in him. This is a very rare impulse for him. Geralt is usually so dominant, but he feels that overwhelming sense of desperation for it. Maybe some part of him wants to be possessed, he wants Jaskier to wipe Yen and all the complex parts of their situation off him.
It's still difficult to admit to a want outside of what comes easily to them, but he isn't sure it's a want, but a need instead. Geralt exposes his neck more in an obvious plea for Jaskier to keep marking him, and he closes his eyes.] Fuck me. [It's rumbled low in his chest, rasping, almost too quiet at first, like he's still getting used to it himself. It is not the first time, but it has been a long time. He grips Jaskier by the hips and then the thighs, lifting him off him for a moment and undoing his tight pants quickly. He isn't looking right at him, face flushed slightly. He gestures for Jaskier to wait as he takes off his pants, and then he climbs on the bed.
He intentionally and by choice gets on his hands and knees, glancing sideways at Jaskier. Presenting himself the exact same way that Jaskier has before, usually with some flirtation and wiggling just to be flirtatious about it, but Geralt doesn't have that in him. If Jaskier wants him in a way Yennefer can't, it's right in front of him, somehow nervous about it. Being submissive is not easy for him, mostly because his instincts want him to buck and be defensive. But he trusts Jaskier.] I want you to fuck me hard like I fuck you.
[He wants to be driven mad by feeling and now there's a little smirk on his lips.] Or is that too much for you? [Is he going to challenge him specifically to get the bard to feed into his defiant side? Oh yes.]
[ Jaskier narrows his eyes at him after pulling at Geralt's hair and getting such a lovely reaction, the corner of his lip twitching as if he’s fighting a smile. The whimper he gets thanks to the bitting is an even sweeter treat and he does it again, this time closer to the shoulder, where the muscle is thicker and he can bite harder without worrying about breaking the skin. Seeing the telltale rounded marks left behind once his mouth is done torturing Geralt ignites something in him.
He moves without thinking, body pressing against his lover when the words reach his ears. 'Fuck me'. It takes him a second to process the unfamiliarity of the request and Jaskier’s eyes widen, momentarily overwhelmed by the magnitude of what Geralt is offering. Sex is how they communicate best, but it's also a show of trust. Geralt looks up at him and the flush in his face makes Jaskier’s chest hurt with affection and hunger, his pupils blow to the point the blue now a thin rin around the blackness. It's the first time he sees Geralt close to blushing, he didn't think such a thing was possible. It's incredibly hot and he wants to undo him, fuck Geralt's brains out until his eyes roll behind his head, leave him a sated mess.
After the Witcher lifts him and tugs at his pants, not an easy feat giving how his cock is straining agains the fabric, Jaskier gets quickly rid of any other piece of cloth he still has on. Geralt might, just might, have a point when he complains about the bard wearing far too many layers to be practical. Not everyone is a mutated Witcher impervious to the cold and extra layers are needed. Plus, he likes to look good and catch Geralt's eye, as vain as that might be.
After he turns, Jaskier makes an effort not to stare at the muscles of Geralt’s scarred back, the perfect curve of his ass but he's only human. It's a really pretty view. Something flares in Jaskier's eyes at the taunting. ]
Don't test me, Witcher.
[ 'I know what you're doing', his eyes say, because Jaskier has done the same thing to him before, many times. He wants to kiss the man senseless, wants to bruise his mouth. Instead, because he tells himself he's still mad, Jaskier brings a hand down and slaps his ass. Leaning in, he nips at the reddened skin before Geralt can say anything and bites down hard. ]
Stay put. [ He moves to get close to the nightstand, the muscles in his shoulders on display when he stretches and closes his hand around the vial of oil. He might be pissed off at Geralt and give him exactly the rough treatment the man craves but there's pain and then there's pain. Only one of them is fun in the bedroom and Jaskier despises the other. He would rather hang himself than hurt anybody that way, least of all Geralt.
They really are shameless, the bard muses as he uncorks the small bottle with his teeth, noticing how they just left it right next to the bed for convenience. He very pointedly does not think in deep about the maidservant who changed their sheets that morning but takes mental note to leave her a big tip before they leave. ]
Didn't know you had it in you. [ Jaskier says conversational, bringing up the words Geralt told him a little while ago and coating his fingers until they're slick enough. ] But if you change your mind...eeh, you can pretty much throw me across the room, so... [ Can do, doesn't mean Would do, so Jaskier wants to make it clear that if Geralt is uncomfortable or wants to stop for whatever season, they will. No hard feelings. And because things were turning sentimental again, Jaskier stares at the wooden bedpost, considers its resistance, then meets Geralt's eyes. His smile is wolfish. ] Hands up there.
[ It's not a request. And yes, he knows he's pushing it but he has the feeling Geralt likes him pushy too. If the Witcher's hands are busy then he can't touch himself, and if he can't control his pleasure, then what happens to it is Jaskier's decision. As an incentive, he moves his fingers between Geralt's thighs, sliding up until his thumb is gently circling the ring of muscle. His knuckles graze over the curve of the perineum, testing Geralt's reaction to the new feeling. Jaskier has never seen him with another man and while Geralt looks too sure of himself to be his first time doing this, and he wants to be careful. He's not treating him with kid gloves, though, his other hand slides down Geralt's back and scratches him here and there, grabs his sides, his hip. Then it moves further, kneading the left glove of his ass, nails digging in and pulling his cheeks apart. ]
[This is not something he asks for or allows easily. It requires control on his part not to overtake his partner. It also is very vulnerable which is uncomfortable for someone always in control. But if he wanted to find an in-between, a way for him to let Jaskier have him but be able to have power over their movements, he would have gone on his back and spread his legs. He chose this position. He chose to be vulnerable, to be the one looking like a dog in heat that Jaskier gets to fuck. He has a very nice arse which they both know, but it's also showing the multitude of scars on his back which Geralt is sometimes very touchy about. This is a gesture for him. They both know he can fuck Jaskier beautifully, but can he be fucked just as well? They'll find out.
He already expects that Jaskier will ease the way with oil, like he always does, both of them more inclined toward pleasure even with a bit of pain to it. It's for the best too because it has been a long time since he let anyone mount him, and he knows his body is not as open to it as others. When Jaskier slaps his ass Geralt groans loudly and humps the air in front of him, desire flooding through him to one place.] Again. [He says throatily, so the next time Jaskier gets a chance he knows it will be welcome. ]
I will not change my mind. [But yes, he does know that if he wants to stop, he can make Jaskier stop at any point. Or ask him to, and he will. That's why this is a symbol of trust between them. Geralt wants this. He is not hiding his eagerness when he follows the instructions and holds onto the bedpost. He knows this means that Jaskier will have his body, every part of it, this will be his show for once. And for some reason he craves it, needs it. He wants to forget, and having sex with Jaskier gives him the ability to focus on anything but his thoughts. This is different. He'll be consumed by Jaskier, owned by him. Yennefer does a good job of pushing him around, making him helpless to her desires, and he is sharing his pleasure of that feeling with his bard now.
Besides, a part of him wants Jaskier to get out this anger and pain and take a piece of him for it. Geralt's legs spread to give Jaskier more room between them. His breath catches at the first feeling of aa finger on him.] I'm not made of glass. [He snaps, demanding more. There is no doubting that he's tight though. Relaxing is not easy for him. He grits his teeth and forces himself to not make his more difficult. His cock is hard and leaking and he wants it, desire is radiating off him.
His back arches when nails touch his skin and he rocks back demandingly toward Jaskier's body and fingers. He would let Jaskier fuck him right here with no preparation, accepting the pain easily if it got him inside. His fingers grip the headboard tightly and his head bows, breathing deeply.] I want you in me. Get the fuck in me.
[ Being very familiar with vulnerability and knowing the risk of putting one's body into someone else hands, Jaskier knows the value of what Geralt is giving him. He won't abuse it, quite the contrary, he intents on making sure Geralt is so thoroughly well fucked he manages to fall asleep afterwards. He is going to ensure there's no trace or Yennefer in his body and mind.
The problem lies in Geralt himself, though, and how impatient he can get when sex is involved. It's so different from his usual calm and aloof demeanor. Count on him to still be demanding even in this position. Usually, it pleases Jaskier more than anything and today is no exception. But today he's also the one who sets the pace, since Geralt offered, and he's in no rush to make this quick. He intends to savor every second of it, to draw it out and chase away the painful memories of what happened earlier. Geralt might not have the healthiest coping mechanism but neither does Jaskier. Birds of a feather, as they say.
The Witcher voicing that his mind is set and then following Jaskier's command without a fuss makes the younger man pleased in a way he can't put in words. It earns Geralt a pleased purr and the palm of a hand connecting with the back of his thigh in a way Jaskier is sure stings the right way. The bard ignores the next order, pressing a finger into him at a very unhurried pace, letting him get used to the stretch. No one would take a look at Geralt and call him fragile but no matter how many muscles he has, Jaskier only cares about the ones tightening around his finger. Because Geralt is so, so tight right now that fuck, Jaskier wants that heat surrounding his cock. And he wants Geralt begging, shaking and relaxed by the time it happens.
At the protest, Jaskier moves up and leans in, face tucked into Geralt's neck, this breath hot again the shell of his ear. ] I want that too, and I will. [ The voice is low and terse, his teeth biting the earlobe. Jaskier finger curls up, press against the bundle of nerve he knows it's inside there, teasing. ] Eventually.
[ He anticipates a protest and smacks Geralt's ass a third time with more force as the man wanted before, the sound echoing in the room. Jaskier's lips move down the curve of his back, between his shoulder blades and over some of the scars. He doesn't mention the scars, he's seen them before and understands Geralt's feelings about how they came to be but they're another part of his Witcher and he adores them like the rest of him. Scarred but still whole, alive. And now, all his to do as he pleases.
Jaskier is no slouch in bed, he takes pride and joy in leaving his partners much happier than when they first met him. He is also aware that his stamina can't compare to that of a Witcher but that's okay, he gets to be creative in bed with Geralt. As he sees it, they have all night and he can make him come as many times as he sees fit before they even get to rut against each other like beasts. There's no way that will not be fun, and will surely earn him a few snarls because Geralt has the patience of a toddler with absolutely no concept of delayed gratification.
The brunette shifts his posture, kneeling properly behind Geralt and withdrawing his finger, ignoring his own unintended cock, heavy and so hard again his lower belly. Hands squeeze the flesh of Geralt's ass and Jaskier is smirking, which should be the Witcher's first clue that the bard is up to no good. ]
I'd gag you if I weren't sure you will bite through it, and there's no point in ruining a perfectly fine silk handkerchief. That...and I enjoy hearing you far too much.
[ Then, without another word, Jaskier licks him. It's a slow and wet hot stripe right between the cheeks, tongue pressing over where his fingers had been a second ago. His breath huff out against the man's pucker when Jaskier pauses only for a second to gauge his reaction. He’s closing his eyes and licking again in no time, the flat of his tongue hard against the sensitive skin. It presses on him, in him, working Geralt open, thrusting as deep as he can, kneading at one cheek and then the other. ]
[Geralt's only done this particular act with other warriors, people are rough and difficult as him, so he should have known that the bard would take his time, would want to torment him rather than give it to him straight. He growls his open impatience but he has no intention of forcing it either. He will stay in Jaskier's hands and let him run this; he made his choice. Even as his body is telling him to turn the tables, to take what he wants, he grits his teeth and pushes the impulse down. That's part of why he wants this too. Maybe to prove to himself that he can let his guard down around someone else. Maybe he's tired of being alone and broken and cold.
His breath intakes sharply at the first movement of Jaskier's finger into him and he feels like his skin is on fire. Tingling. Everywhere Jaskier is touching it lights up, such as when his body goes up against him and he leans his head toward Jaskier's hot murmuring mouth. Gods he knew the bard was hot, he never got enough of fucking him, but he might be impressed. Then he twists his fingers and Geralt's fingers dig into the headboard, hissing.]
Jask--- [His rough voice sounds like it absolutely was about to protest or demand more and then Jaskier slaps his ass and he groans. He is usually quiet in bed, even when he makes noise it's muted, but this one rumbles hard in his chest. He's done that to others before, who requested it, but didn't think to ask for it himself. The fact Jaskier just seems to know what he wants is baffling to him; or maybe he's so turned on that he can do almost anything and it will work on Geralt.
The irritated look he shoots over his shoulder when Jaskier removes his finger. He's supposed to add more of them, not pull them out, how the fuck is he supposed to get ready without that? If the bard teases him too much he will snap eventually and take it from him. He will ride that cock in a punishing form if he doesn't get on with it. That being said, golden eyes are confused when he sees that smirk, knowing Jaskier's about to do something mischievous.]
I am going to fucking st--- [Strangle was going to be his word and then his eyes widen in shock as Jaskier licks him. Geralt almost loses his balance in his surprise, scrambling harder with his grip on the headboard. He gives a full body shiver and his heart pounds so fast it is closer to a human beat than a witcher one.] Fuck. [That sounds weak at best, more amazed, and it is clear he's never had this happen to him before. He turns his head back to the wall and rests his forehead down on the headboard between his hands, gasping for breath. It feels incredible. Hot and wet and new and his head is spinning from lust.]
Yes. [It's all he can murmur out of little gasp-moans and his body is adjusting to this new sensation. He does seem to open up more now, relaxing around Jaskier's tongue and touch, almost like the surprise of it got through to his stubborn tension and he's just so fascinated to keep experiencing it. The problem is he likes it too much. There is a desperation in how he starts wiggling his hips and leaning back into it. A single touch from a hand on his painfully hard cock would set him off, that's how on edge he is.] More, I need ....
[ There's a whole world of sexual practices that doesn't leave you limping and maybe it's time they give it a try. Jaskier likes the rough treatment on himself, can offer it in return is that's what his partner wants, but it's always been easier for him to pamper others. He's too soft, as Geralt might have pointed out to him in the past. He can be a wicked little shit too, so it balances out.
His lips curl into a smile at every grunt, every snarl and moan he can wring out of Geralt. He's often the one at the other's mercy during sex, which he loves honestly, and it feels so good to tease him back that it would almost be enough to get Jaskier off. Almost. Geralt is growling but he's still behaving, the headboard intact even if it might not be for long, and Jaskier is proud of him. He had joked in the past that he would do anything Geralt wants if the man asks nicely but the truth is that he would do anything the man wants for no other reason than it would make Geralt happy. Hence the scratches and the smacks, and the biting. The last one is especially easy because Jaskier is as fond of marking him as he is of being marked in return.
The way Geralt chest rumbles after the bard slaps his ass has Jaskier's heart skipping a beat, answering with a purr born deep down in his throat. It's rare for Geralt to noisy and he treasures the moments when they happen. He tries to pay attention to the tell-tales of what might turn on Geralt, the things he only hints at and the one he outright demands. He has to stifle a chuckle after Geralt's curse is cut short and doesn't fully manages it. His tongue ripples with a contained laugh, vibrations against the Witcher's most intimate muscles.
The ripple and subdued swear that follows is endearing and it dawns on Jaskier that he's really managed to catch him off guard this time. The hand that was squeezing one of Geralt's thigh slides up, pressing the flat of his warm palm on his lower back, thumb moving in small circles. A grounding touch, 'I've got you', it tells. Everything it's easier after that, the tension in Geralt's body marginally decreasing with every sweep of Jaskier's tongue. When the hand retreats, it does so while digging the nails along the skin of Geralt's back and thighs. ]
I know. [ Jaskier says, voice roughened with desire. He tilts head to the side, kisses and bites at the flesh of his arse. He mouths one cheek, then the other, enough so it stings for a moment. The heels of his hands are placed where strong thighs meet the curve of Geralt's ass and spreads him, then returns to bury his face between the cheeks again. The burning warmth of his tongue laps cat-like at his hole and then Jaskier groans deep in his chest as if he can't get enough of Geralt's taste. He's not trying to tease any more, knowing that the other man is at his limit. The bard can read the signs, see it in the bend in his spine, the rocking of the hips, the waves of sensation racking through his body.
He licks him open, first with long, slow strokes across the skin and then letting his tongue slide in faster, pushing deeper, getting into a rhythm. Jaskier's spit dribbles down his chin, mixing with the smeared oil, leaving Geralt's puffy and pink hole a wet mess. He doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, even as he starts feeling a little out of breath. A slick hand sneaks between Geralt's legs and grips his cock, firm and steady, giving some rough tugs while Jaskier tenses his tongue and wriggle it inside him. ]
[Geralt has thought before that he would enjoy, someday, being able to fuck Jaskier without making the bard wince for a week afterward. It doesn't help that Jaskier's hungry enough to keep coming back regardless of whether it's too much. He'll be crying on Geralt's cock for the third time in a night and it's not as if Geralt can stop, but still. That will always come naturally to him, what he enjoys, how much he likes looking at the bard wrecked and helpless in his arms. But perhaps there are other options too.
His strength is something that occasionally he has to consider. He doubts they'll make it through this night without him breaking the bed at some point. Because of that he is more hesitant about smacking Jaskier, so instead he typically squeezes his body and bites, things he knows he likes. But clearly at the moment he is loving every slap; Jaskier being this strong and aggressive is really doing it for him. He will have to reward him later for it. His bard isn't so soft after all.
Geralt feels like he's a livewire, wanting to struggle away from the pleasure he's being given and into it at the same time. It's overwhelming, more than he expected, to be opened like this. The touch of Jaskier's hand to his lower back, the sweet caress that is clearly meant to be reassuring, is taken both well and badly by Geralt at the same time. He appreciates the thought while struggling with the concept that he needs reassurance. It is going to take time for him to get used to letting someone in, both literally and emotionally.
He's distracted from his discomfort by the feel of Jaskier's teeth on his arse and he really doesn't care now. Jaskier can do anything, ask anything, he's lost his grip on keeping his mind intact. Geralt swears and feels a rush of relief when the bard doesn't seem to be teasing, he's amping up his behavior instead. If he didn't have incredible stamina he might have begged for him to stop, but Geralt's three times as quick to bounce back as an average human. So he allows himself to have this. He lets the pressure and pleasure build until it's agony, he rocks back into Jaskier's tormenting mouth and growls, his nails digging hard enough into the headboard to make a scratching mark.
When Jaskier touches his cock it's such a sudden change from the new sensation of being opened and something so grounding and familiar. He whimpers and his control fractures, thrusting his hips forward into Jaskier's hand and coming a very short few seconds later. Geralt gives a guttural low cry that might be Jaskier's name and he bites his own bleeding lip, the copper and pain making it all the sweeter.
He breathes in a long shuttering sigh and then out again, his body loosened now, between Jaskier's actions and an orgasm. He hums, deep and content, and doesn't turn.] That was good. [He murmurs, understated to say the least, and lets go of one of his hands from the head board to reach behind him and stroke fingers through Jaskier's hair.] Now fuck me. [Geralt has no interest in an afterglow. His hunger is not sated.]
[ It probably comes as no surprise to anybody who knows Jaskier for longer than 10 minutes that the man has very little concept of self-preservation. He will argue that it's a bard thing, the need to pursue what interests him with all his energy, let it be an adventure, sex or music. And maybe sometimes it gets too much, he ends biting more than he can chew or overwhelmed but he always, always comes back for more once he's done licking his wounds. It might be both his worst and best trait.
There are limits of course, he does draw the line at certain practices. Being on the receiving end of a smacking doesn't do much for him, it doesn't work for his libido as it does for Geralt's. The other man doesn't have to worry about not delivering that particular kink. While Jaskier has joked with the Witcher about gags, being actually tied up it's something he does not enjoy. It makes him skittish and too tense, and if he were honest with himself, Jaskier would admit that it scares him to be at someone's mercy and not being able to move, even if that someone is a partner he knows well. Maybe that's a conversation he has to have with Geralt one day but getting him to talk about kinks might just be as impossible as getting him to admit he has feelings of any sort.
It's a worry for another day, now his mind has zeroed on the way Geralt's body is quivering, how he rocks back against his mouth and the cracking the wood makes under his hands when he comes. Jaskier withdraws from him when he starts to worry about over-stimulation, placing one last, loud and wet kiss on Geralt's left cheek. As the man reaches back and plays with the bard's hair, the action earning him a contended whimper, Jaskier brings his cum stained hand to his lips and licks his fingers clean while staring at Geralt. He beams at the praise.
Is the happy hum Geralt is making what prompts Jaskier to nuzzle into his back, wrapping his hands around the narrow waist, reveling in the feel of the strong muscles against his chest, the incredible animal warmth of him. His cock is now pressed against the perfect curve of Geralt's ass and Jaskier is kind of dying from holding back for so long, but he can handle a few more minutes. His fingers grip the nape of Geralt's neck, pressure sure and hard and bring their faces close. It's clear he wants to kiss him but doesn't just yet, Geralt might not be comfortable with that after what he's done, which is fine. ]
No need for a break? [ Brown eyebrows rise, impressed. Jaskier shouldn't be surprised, though, goddamn Witchers' stamina, lucky bastards. ] Good, I'm far from done with you. Now, let go of the headboard, I want your hands on me.
[ Leaning back and reluctantly also letting go of his lover, Jaskier sits on the mattress. His hardness is bordering on painful now and he pulls at Geralt's wrist to try and convince him to move. The bard pats at his own thighs, his smile sharp. ] Sit on me.
[ Another request but said in a softer voice, almost like he wants to plea for that to happen but Jaskier knows is better not to. He keeps eye contact with Geralt, intense and possessive, watching him with hunger. It's a big turn on to have Geralt bent down in front of him but Jaskier wants to see his face, wants to touch and kiss and bite. A selfish part of him says that he only wants Geralt to see who is leaving him an incoherent mess, but the honest truth is that Jaskier wants them both to be on equal ground. They're partners in more than one sense of the word, and Jaskier wants him to feel like a person, not a piece of meat or something to be used. ]
[They've never really spoken directly about the things they do or do not like, because they do not talk about the sex they have outside of confirming they enjoy it. And it isn't likely to be something Geralt is ready to do yet either, it's outside of his level of comfort. Many things are, as Jaskier's sure to find out for himself, the closer they get and the more they experience together. He will never be chatty. It will never come to him easily to communicate or talk. He still prefers short clipped words or sentences. He still hates talking about his feelings. Especially with Yennefer's words so close to the surface of his raw skin at the moment.
He contently leans back into Jaskier, glad for the hands on his waist and he is hungry when he feels his bard's cock so close to where he wants it. Geralt's mouth goes dry he and he moves his arse back so he can rub it against Jaskier. He's begging for it with his body if not in words. Geralt needs no break, he needs the bard to be inside of him already. He's dismayed when Jaskier moves away and something about his posture stiffens all at once.
Usually, Geralt has no problem saying no. He says it sharply, firmly, knowing what he wants, knowing what he doesn't want. This is the first time he can remember where he hesitates, swallowing down the no at first. The problem is, if he says no, he has to explain. He does not want to explain. Geralt can barely put into words that he wants to be fucked in the first place, let alone complicated details like the fact he can't look Jaskier in the eye right now. It's not shame, it's emotion. He has to guard his eyes and he will be so focused on doing that, it'll hold him back. He will struggle with pleasure, struggle with feeling this freedom he's craving to let someone have him.
It should be clear by now, since he's not obeying Jaskier and yet also not taunting him as if it's a game, that there's something going on, whirling, in his head. It may show in when he does look at Jaskier, briefly, but has trouble keeping his gaze, and there's stone on his face again, like he's iced over or attempting to. He wants to say no but he doesn't want to explain, and he doesn't want Jaskier to be upset, both because of the no and lack of explanation. At this point Geralt has to have faith. Jaskier knows him. He won't push him.]
No. [He says. Geralt may not want to be fucked face to face, but he does turn to look at Jaskier, his eyes guarded. He crawls closer to him on the bed and grabs him by the back of the neck, tugging him in for a knee-weakening kiss. He doesn't care about the taste or any of that. He wants Jasker to know that it's not lack of want of him. Geralt pulls away and finally just says what's on his mind.] I want it in that position, and I don't want to explain why.
[He feels very tense at the moment and more than a little uncertain if this is going to blow up or not. Geralt really wants to keep it at that, but he is about to let this man come inside of his body. He can probably give him a little more.] No to this time. [There, that will hopefully communicate that it's not a no forever, but whatever is going on in his head, it isn't going to be solved in this moment.
That communicated, more than he really feels comfortable doing, this is all outside of his comfort zone and he really is doing his best. Every part of him is rebelling. Geralt goes back into position, hoping trusting him wasn't a mistake.] Fuck me, Jaskier. [Saying please is far too much for him at the moment, but there is almost an implication there, like he's biting off the word rather than it not coming to his lips at all.]
[ The kiss distracts him before he can speak. It is a very good strategy at that, getting Jaskier to moan into his mouth as they press against each other. So it's not a lack of want that is stopping Geralt. ]
All right. [ Jaskier agrees once they break the kiss, doesn't argue or sounds mad. He had promised Geralt that he was going to listen if the man told him to stop or if he was uncomfortable. Geralt might not have used those exact words but a simple 'no' suffices. Jaskier doesn't like the way his whole body has tensed up all of sudden.
He's realizing that maybe Geralt isn't only trying to prove something to him but also dealing with a personal issue because of the way he hesitated. Generally, no matter what they do, he's bold and direct, especially when voicing his displeasure. This change in behaviors is puzzling but he knows when to push and when to give the wolf some space. ]
I think I can make that sacrifice, get you to stop you from being able to think so much. [ The tone is light, a joke meant to get everything back on track and the situation less tense for Geralt. It's meant to reassure him that it's all fine even if Jaskier is not completely happy. He's worried about his partner but Geralt said 'this time' so that opens up the door for some unexpected things in the future. He thought this was going to be a one-time thing only, gods, he's luckier than he ever imagined. ]
Since you asked so nicely, sunshine. [ He grins while saying the last word, intentionally looking to make the Witcher grunt in exasperation.
In a blink he's back to pressing his chest to Geralt's back, one of his hands sliding around the man's sides and moving to his chest, the other buries itself on Geralt's hair and tugs. Jaskier starts toying with his nipples, rolling one of the quickly hardening buds between his thumb and index finger and then flicking the tip. His mouth finds the curve of his Geralt's and starts working on a mark there. He's back to being hard and wanting, cock pressed to Geralt's ass, but before they go further Jaskier wants him to relax again.
And so, he starts with the dirty talking.
Jaskier had always had a way with words, it was necessary for his profession and his creativity got better with the years. He doesn't deliver sickly-sweet verses this time, opting for bold and direct and crude, raw feeling and need. Jaskier tells Geralt that he want him to scream his name when he comes, that he wants to feel his cock twitch inside the Witcher, leave him hoarse from screaming, fuck him like he owns him and make it so Geralt can't walk straight tomorrow, and what does Geralt think about Jaskier dominating him? Would he want the bard to eat him out more often? Or maybe make him come with just his fingers knuckle deep in his ass, milking his prostate?
It's not degrading because Jaskier is still testing the waters about what works and doesn't for Geralt, but there's growing desperation in his own voice too. It had dropped a few octaves and gotten thick with need, his cock almost twitching as it slides between Geralt's ass cheeks without yet burying himself into the man's body. ]
[Something relaxes slightly in Geralt when Jaskier accepts without pressing for details. He suspected the bard wouldn't risk his chance at fucking him no matter what questions he might have, but it is reassuring to know it for certain. He relaxes enough for him to roll his eyes at Jaskier and his 'sacrifice.' He grunts in annoyance so he's back to that part of himself at least, and the joke does help remove some of the tension that was thick in the air around them. He didn't know until he said next time that he was going to let this happen again, but now it seems obvious that he would. Why not? If Jaskier's good at it, he doubts this will be the last time he wants to get fucked senseless.
The sunshine absolutely gets a sharply irritated look.] I will toss your ass out of this room. [He tries not to smile and mostly fails, but then Jaskier's on him. Geralt's body is waking up again and he hmms in satisfaction, warming to Jaskier's touch. He likes the feeling of arms around him, clever hands playing with his nipples until they're to a hard point. He groans his pleasure the moment Jaskier's mouth is on his neck and he can feel Jaskier's cock there. It's hot and hard and he wants it.
Jaskier did have a way with words. Geralt hates how much he wants him to talk but when he's saying filth like that, the witcher can't do much more than breath steadily and nod his head. Yes he wants him to do all of those things, and while they won't all happen, the fantasy of it is very good all the same. He doesn't feel like it's degrading at all; he enjoys hearing all of it and the low rumbles and growls in his throat say as much. Not to mention he hears Jaskier's voice get deeper and he growls, frustrated.]
Jaskier. [Geralt's voice is throaty and low and angry, groaning when he feels Jaskier's cock between his cheeks but not going inside of him. He spreads his knees apart, bending down more so his back arches just right, making his arse stick up higher in the air, tantalizing him.] Fucking fuck me, right now, or I am going to lose my shit and break your lute over your godsdamn not-fucking-me head. [He's gotten properly riled up now and he jerks himself back, rubbing friction on Jaskier's cock.
Geralt's cock has started to come back, growing slowly with those filthy words whispered, but he's not getting harder until he gets what he's desperately starving for. He never thought he would be this much of a physical mess, pathetically begging with his body, and maybe he'd be angry about it another time. But the timing now is perfect for his ego not to get in the way.] If you want to own my ass then fucking take it.
[ Geralt growls when Jaskier talks, low and menacing, and the bard proves he's a basket case again by keening back at him in response between filthy words. Geralt is grinding his arse against him, lifting his hips and that's is such an open invitation that it makes him shudder. He takes a moment to appreciate being here, so close to Geralt’s, able to run his hands over his body and adore Geralt’s lovely grumpy self because he's just so...
Fucking fuck me, right now, or I am going to lose my shit and break your lute over your godsdamn not-fucking-me head.
...insufferable. Jaskier has no idea why he's even in this relationship.
If you want to own my ass then fucking take it.
Ah, yeah, okay, that's part of the why. ]
Fuck you, no. [ Jaskier says, voice cracking. He's still angry at Geralt, it's just hard to remember that when all he can finally smell is the man under him, the scent of lilacs long forgotten. Hand gripping his hair, Jaskier growls into his ear. ] You don't get to order me around tonight.
[ He's being contrary for the sake of his pride and because it turns Geralt on. Part of him finds it immensely gratifying, that the Witcher is this on edge because of him, for him. Geralt is more relaxed now but no less calm and Jaskier is at his limit, he doesn't want to drag things out anymore. A snarl of his own is the last sounds he makes before Jaskier bites down rather viciously on the curve of his neck. He sneaks a hand down between their bodies to grab his own cock and angles himself. Geralt's still wet enough from the attention of his mouth and his slicked fingers that it's easy, and Jaskier pushes into him in a move that seems wholly instinctual.
Immediately, he feels the full pressure-drag down deep, all around his cock, and curses under his breath. He struggles not to buck up into the sensation too hard, because, fuck, fuck, it's good, so good and so tight and so warm. Jaskier can imagine the discomfort of the breach Geralt might be feeling. No matter how aggressive the other man wants him to be, he stills his hips for a few seconds, let's him adjust to the stretch. ]
Aaah, that's, fuck...you’re so, this is... [ Being inside Geralt It's like nothing he's ever felt before. It's heady, just the implications of it, that Jaskier is in him and that Geralt allowed it, craved it. It's enough to make him gasps raggedly, start moving his hips in a deliberately slow roll, one hand clutching Geralt's hair and the other clutching his hip, nails digging in. The first proper thrust happens without warning too. Jaskier gasps against Geralt's neck and starts to rock forward. He nips and bites his shoulder, his neck, trembling and gasping and not managing to produce a single coherent sentence any longer. ]
[Since he was only briefly in Yennefer's arms in comparison, he thinks it won't be difficult for Jaskier to cover him with his scent instead. He smells only him and arousal at the moment, and it's gratifying. Geralt is holding on by a thread and the sharp grip in his hair helps. It grounds him and it's tight and he remembers to breathe. It would be more difficult for him to break out of this hold and force Jaskier onto his back, riding him like he asked angrily, and when he finally, finally feels Jaskier's cock at his entrance he breathes out slowly. There may be a murmured thank the gods under his breath there.
It's been a very long time since he let anyone take him and while yes, it is slightly discomforting, especially since he is not good at relaxing, it's also perfect. Geralt likes a little bit of pain and his body stretches and adjusts to the intrusion slowly, but he moans his pleasure, his relief. He didn't realize exactly how much he wanted this, more so than he even knew when he asked for it the first place. It's hot and intense and Jaskier surrounds him. All of his senses, everywhere he can be touched, Jaskier is there. He wants him to dive in, he wants it to be hard, but he lets Jaskier take it his way. To start.]
Yes, fuck yes.[He makes a strangled sound when Jaskier moves his hips like that and the nails on his hip are a perfect contrast so the pleasure burning through him.] More, do it, more. [Geralt's hands tighten on the bedpost again, a creak heard, and he drops one hand from it, his other one sturdy enough. His thick arm hooks up and around, fingers digging into Jaskier's sweaty hair. He is not staying passive, rocking his hips back into Jaskier's cock, obscenely spread now for Jaskier to have him. His own cock is back to fully hard and dripping with want.]
Hard, I can take it. [His voice is low and rasping, strained. It isn't a surprise that the witcher's powerful body wants to be strung out and used. Gentle is not his way, whether it's him taking or being the taken. Jaskier feels incredible though. Geralt keeps his neck purposely exposed so Jaskier can bite him as much as possible. In his lust-filled and unfocused mind, he knows Jaskier doesn't want him to order. Begging is also not something he likes the idea of, except he is so deeply desperate right then. He's already letting the man take him like this, so he can forgive himself.]
Fuck my brains out. [Geralt grits his teeth, needing more, needing the sound of their flesh smacking and Jaskier's words in his ears.] Please. [The word is a beg, but not the tone Geralt is using it in. That will have to suffice. He makes the please sound like a demand, but it is a please, no matter how it's choked out.]
[ He always finds Geralt's body to be pleasantly warm to the touch but he's a furnace inside and thigh enough to turn carbon into diamond. The headboard is going to be a casualty of war, Jaskier can tell, if the way Geralt grips it and how the wood creaks are any indication even under only one hand.
He's moved the white hair aside and it's sucking a rough hickey onto the back of Geralt’s neck, just where it would brush with the collar of his shirt if it lasted long enough. Stupid Witchery powers and enhanced healing, ruining the fun. Only once he would like to see the bruises on Geralt body in the morning, right where he put them the night before.
There's a strong hand tangling in his hair and Jaskier seems so pleased by the extra contact that he moans, sounding as stripped raw as he feels. He slides out of him slowly and then pushes back in quicker, slamming into Geralt, and it's twice as good as the first times. His eyes flutter shut, breath punched out of him with a groan, and he can't find his voice to speak back because when Jaskier is really lost into sex, it's the only time he's actually capable of silence.
Pleas aren't something he expects from Geralt and hearing one becomes more rewarding for that reason alone. He doesn't care that it sounds like another growl, that is bossy, because a tiger can't change its stripes and a Witcher isn't used to show vulnerability. Jaskier understands it well enough to reward Geralt for the attempt. Rocking his hips, the bard moves his legs a bit and changes the angle, aiming for his sweet spot, first fucking Geralt with sharp, shallow thrusts and then deeper ones, dragging his cock against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside.
If things were easier, better between them, Jaskier would be able to see his face properly and bite his lips with a ferocity that would leave Geralt breathless. 'No to this time', Geralt had said, and the bard really hopes he keeps his word because being inside him feels fucking fantastic and there's pretty much nothing he wouldn't do to have a second chance at it. If things were easier, he wouldn't have to worry about sharing the man with Yennefer and never having him fully. The thought stings and he doesn't want to think anymore. Jaskier ends up digging his fingers into Geralt's narrow waist, and then it's far too natural to hold him, stepping up the pace of his thrusts until the rhythm is just short of brutal, both feeling the hot burn of the shift. ]
I'm still pissed at you. [ Jaskier says with gritted teeth and then leans all his weight into him.
His right-hand slides down Geralt's stomach, wrapping his fingers around the man's thick cock and squeezing. He starts to jerk him in rhythm with his thrust, except that when he feels Geralt starts to tense up under him, Jaskier's hand slides down further and he grips the base of his cock to keep him from coming. ]
[Geralt isn't about to ask Yennefer or any other witch to slow his healing down simply for the sake of hickeys, but he is happy to have them placed on his skin regardless. They won't last, but he feels them even through his thick skin. He loves seeing Jaskier marked up. Sometimes simply looking at his neck is enough to get Geralt hard, so he does understand why his partner would like it too. Jaskier will just have to keep making them. Forever. Maybe one will stick (it won't).
The reward for his please definitely tells him he should do it more often, even if it pricked his pride, because Jaskier is fucking him in a deliciously perfect way. Geralt can't keep his hand in brown hair, Jaskier hits his sweet spot with vicious aim and Geralt's hand is forced to grip the headboard again to keep him steady. He doesn't mind, he needs to be grounded with how thoroughly Jaskier's taking him and it gives him the strength to push back into him.
The more brutal Jaskier is the louder Geralt is, so keep at it, because his groans and snarls tell the story. Geralt's aggressively pushing back and then forward and the headboard is banging loudly on the wall, something he likes when it's Jaskier underneath him, a whimpering mess. Geralt isn't a whimpering mess, he's much more animalistic in the moment, nails scratching open the wood, his teeth gritting. He eagerly lets Jaskier's hands on his hips control him for a moment, enjoying staying still and letting Jaskier's brutal strokes take over.
The words barely make it through a fog of lust, he's confused by them. There's nothing in Geralt's mind at the moment but them having wild sex, and it feels good. Not as good, really, as when he's plunging inside of Jaskier, but still what he needed at the moment. His breath shutters and he closes his eyes, making a pleased rumble when Jaskier finally grips his cock. He builds up to his orgasm, or at least he plans on it, before the hand on him decides to halt it.
Geralt is shocked out of his haze, and he teeters very close on the edge. He could snap Jaskier's hand right off of him, force the bard on his knees, fuck him for such insolence. Except in his riled state he wouldn't be feral, and he wouldn't want that. He is flushed red and bucks back at Jaskier, a clear warning that he is far from as submissive as he may be allowing then. Geralt snarls at him.]
I didn't fuck her. [It's a hissed admission. Geralt did eventually plan on confessing, probably, depending on how easy he could brush it off without explaining. But he's angry about being punished for something he didn't do. Jaskier has no reason to be angry. Geralt wasn't unfaithful to him. Not that he would call it that, they aren't monogamous even if they've stopped having sex with other people, but still. He doesn't feel like explaining that when Jaskier is balls-deep in him. Stop being a fucking prick and come in me. [He says it and oh does he want it, licking his dry lips.]
[ If they don't get kicked out of the inn come morning, it will be a miracle. They're making enough noise to be heard in a different town. Somehow the angle now is just that much better, just that much deeper, and it does wonders for them both. And gods, Geralt is beautiful like this, skin slick with sweat, pushing back to meet each snap of his hips, bodies moving in tandem.
But It turns out that Geralt isn't too keen on being dominated or controlled, who would have thought. Jaskier has half a mind not to smile too broadly. For once he's glad that they're not face to face because if Geralt hadn't killed him for keeping him from coming, he would have bitten his head off after seeing his grin. And then, Geralt's words sink in and he feels like all the air has been ripped from his chest. ]
You didn't...y-you, bastard. [ Jaskier's voice is strained, brittle, like his control is fraying or he wants to cry at the revelation. It's relieving but devastating for the terrible timing, like feeling the floor drop out from under him. From all the times to tell him, to explain himself, the Witcher goes and chooses this very moment? Goddamn Geralt of Rivia, he always finds a way to screw him up even when Jaskier isn't the one getting fucked. The bard almost wants to scream. His cock has other ideas, though, the traitorous bastard, and he feels himself getting close, in part because Geralt demands it.
Which is about the point he completely loses it.
His free hand grips Geralt's jawline to make him turn his head and crushes his lips against the man. The angle is not right, necks can only twist too much until it gets painful, and Jaskier is using more teeth than actual tongue, but he does not fucking care about anything anymore. He can't tell if he feels angry at not knowing sooner, pleased that Geralt didn't give into her, or if he's just going mental.
He rams into Geralt with a force he didn't know he had in him, breaks the kiss to gasp wetly against his neck and lets go of his face to rack his nails down his back, leaving four angry red marks. Jaskier pants, forehead resting between Geralt's shoulder blades, tightening his grip on the man’s cock, no longer keeping him from tipping over the edge but encouraging it. Long fingers squeeze him from base to tip, swiping his thumb along with the head of his cock. Fast, rough and unrelenting.
The muscles of Jaskier's stomach tense and he can hear his own heartbeat in his throat, his jaw slacking and his rhythm starts staggering. His mouth makes a shaky noise that sounds like Geralt's name over and over and over until the only thing that comes out is a snarl followed by a draw out moan. He's pressing into Geralt in one long grind and then falling apart, coming in a hot pulse deep inside the other man that only adds to the sensation of electricity starting at the base of his spine and rushing upward. ]
[They will definitely get snipped at for this, but most people don't push too hard at a witcher, and a murderous look from him will keep from any taunting about the noises being made too. He likes it much better when it's Jaskier who was making all of the noise, it's something he prides himself on, but it's his turn and he hasn't stopped himself either. It would be easy with his control to bite down on something or keep himself together, but then he wouldn't feel this spinning feeling where he's embracing the ecstasy instead of fighting against it.
Luckily he has a lead on the monster they're dealing with here because of Yennefer, so they'll shut their mouths if it means he'll save their lives. And maybe have to throw in the price of fixing the headboard. He has some stupid hope that telling Jaskier in the heat of the moment will keep him from having to explain himself, as opposed to in the quiet of the afterglow, and that's his intention until forced otherwise. It gets him what he wants right then so who cares. He turns his head at Jaskier's request and it's not comfortable but he'll allow it. It's not as personal as face to face would be and he enjoys it.
Their first night together, Geralt was in complete control, he moved Jaskier how he wanted him, he ordered him around, and overtime it's eased, he's allowed Jaskier to make more demands and experiment with what they both enjoy best in bed. That is why Jaskier clearly knows what he wants the most. Between him being rough and hard, slamming into Geralt with the same kind of force he himself likes to give, and the scratches on his back, the witcher moans. He keeps murmuring yes, over and over again, sometimes louder and sometimes quieter, to spur Jaskier on.
What he said got Jaskier to touch him again and he could only let himself be dizzy with relief, thrusting into his hand and seeking the release he needs. The headboard finally cracks from the pressure of his fingers in it, not broken off entirely but that may end up in the cost of their room. Geralt feels the bard start to fall apart and gets greedy for it, rolling his hips back until Jaskier goes deep inside of him and the wood under his nails cracks in a different spot. He comes the second that Jaskier fills him up, hot and wet, and he whites out with it. It sounds like the rushing of white noise in his head and he breathes raggedly, head pressed between his hands.
Geralt isn't entirely certain why he needed this but he feels complete because of it. He feels like there's less of a weight on his chest, of words haunting his ears, and there's a certainty of Jaskier's life thudding around him here. Maybe it's because he felt out of control and needed to let someone else take it from him to feel better. Whatever the reason, he feels relaxed and soothed. He's come twice now and perhaps not for the last time tonight.
Typically he moves out of Jaskier just so he doesn't put too much weight on him, but the bard's weight is nothing on top of him in comparison. He leaves him where he is, contently humming with him still wrapped around him, although now he can release the headboard for real. His sweaty arm goes back up around him and strokes fingers through Jaskier's hair, gentler this time, affectionate.] Mmm, thanks. [Geralt doesn't thank people frequently, but he is pliant at the moment.] For doing it my way.
[ Having a big, intimidating man as a partner does come in handy when other less big but still intimidating men get angry at them. The bard could try to cheer them up with songs but that might not really do the trick after keeping the whole inn awake and half breaking a bed. Still, it had been a worthy sacrifice.
Usually, Jaskier has enough finesse not to collapse on top of his bed partners but it's been a long time since he's done this - that with only sleeping with Geralt exclusively because that's what monogamous really means- and his vision has blacked out for a few seconds. He doesn't immediately realize that his arms are around the Witcher's chest until the man shifts and a hand is pleasantly petting at his hair, getting a purr out of him. ] Hmm...my pleasure.
[ For a moment, he's just happy.
Jaskier is not going to forget any time soon the way Geralt moves against him, how he feels inside and what kinds of sounds he makes when he comes with a cock in his ass. Tilting his head, he presses a kiss to Geralt's shoulder, right next to one of his previous bites and moves so they can both lie down on the bed. Jaskier is careful while sliding out of Geralt, no matter how much stronger than him is the other man some things are uncomfortable if not done right. Geralt is always careful with him and the bard wants to show him the same deference. He wants to curl up against Geralt but he has no clue if that's a thing they do anymore. And that doubt brings out the rest of them that were floating in the back of his mind.
I thought you slept with Yennefer. Why didn't you?
It's all he can think about now and all he wants to ask. He has to ask. Jaskier hates himself already because he can anticipate Geralt's reaction, which won't be nice no matter the reason, but he.has.to.ask.
His lips part.
No words come out.
He closes them again.
Jaskier drops his head, looks at the hands in his lap so he doesn't have to stare at Geralt's piercing eyes. He doesn't seem to be able to stop shaking. It's a light tremble, but it's there, no longer to be justified as a result of his orgasm. He focuses on breathing, blue eyes wide and blinking as if he's not all sure about what just happened between them or how to feel. What he knows is that Geralt is never inclined to explain himself and asking would only earn him a dismissal. When the brunette finally speaks, his voice is soft and fairly lost, dejected. ]
Whenever you are ready again, I know it won't take you long, just...do whatever you want with me but keep me from thinking. It will keep me from talking.
[ Maybe they can do that from now on. Fuck each other brains out and not talk, not think, not feel. It seems to work for Geralt just fine, Jaskier can give it a try even if it hurts. This is why he doesn't do anger, why he's incapable of handling this kind of emotions for long, they left him feeling wrung out once it's over, an empty shell. ]
[Geralt sighs when Jaskier gets out of him, but he knows that it's required. It's interesting, being on the other end. His very rare male lovers were rough, direct, and then it was over. Generally, that's how he prefers sex, or has always preferred sex in his past. He is glad though when he moves onto his back and frowns over at Jaskier. The bard is usually clingy after sex, although since boundaries were made between them he's been better about not doing that. Still, Geralt expects him to be closer, and he watches him, contemplative.
He isn't liking his body language. Jaskier is loose and comfortable, both in his skin and in their bed, and there is something heavy on him. Those piercing eyes he wanted to avoid are looking right at him, considering. Something is wrong. He should be acting smug and high on himself for getting to fuck the White Wolf. He should be teasing and making Geralt want to growl at him. His body feels great; relaxed, warm, well-used. But his partner does not seem as satisfied; in heart, if not in body.
Emotions are exhausting. Emotions of other people are particularly exhausting. Geralt's irritated at first; why does he have to ruin this? It was good. He gave himself over to Jaskier, let him take something he rarely does, willingly and eagerly. This is the problem with getting involved with humans with their squishy flesh and squishy hearts. Geralt is not healthy or knowledgeable enough to handle this well or know what to say and do. But he does know that Jaskier is upset and unhappy and he has to deal with that. This is all logic, but his heart also hurts in his chest, not that he'd like to admit that. It makes something whirl in his stomach, seeing unhappiness from Jaskier.]
I am not having sex with you unless you enthusiastically wants it. [And it is clear from his tone he is not enthusiastic about much at the moment. Geralt frowns and then puts an arm around Jaskier, tugging him close. He taps a finger on Jaskier's chin and lifts it, leaning in for a slow and searching kiss. His touch is gentle, his embrace tender. He wants his obnoxiously charming bard back. He doesn't understand why he's upset. He said he didn't sleep with Yennefer. Wasn't that the problem? He's confused enough that he has to ask.]
Why are you upset? I haven't let anyone fuck me in a long time, I thought you'd be pleased. [He hates that he's actually requesting to talk about something when it's easier to ignore it, and to have sex to mask it, as Jaskier offers. But that's what Geralt is comfortable with, not what his bard is, and he has to occasionally compromise. Geralt runs his fingers through Jaskier's hair, cupping his cheek.]
[ Jaskier would be doting on him far much more if the circumstances were different. He's a sucker for cuddling, which Geralt knows, but it's also his turn to spoil him, get them something to clean themselves and bring his partner some water. And he wants to do all that still except that moving seems like such a chore right now, the heaviness of Geralt's stare weighs on him, making his chest hurt.
It's stupid and it's his own fault for letting feelings getting mixed into this, for not being able to keep his jealousy in check when it comes to the Witch and the Witcher. And now he's made Geralt upset, which in turn only makes him feel more guilty and miserable. ]
I suppose I deserve that. I'm sorry. [ Jaskier concedes. Sex requires a willing partner or it's an ugly thing. He hasn't meant to offend Geralt with the suggestion, he honestly thought it would be easier that way, but now the bard understands how disrespectful it was. He hangs his head lower in shame, wincing.
He almost expects Geralt to kick him out of the bed, and the careful handling he gets instead is disconcerting in a good way. He gives into it willingly, tremors subsiding lightly once lips are pressing against his own, long lashes brushing his cheeks when he closes his eyes. In Geralt’s arms, he feels safe. He always does.The brunette nuzzles Geralt after they break the kiss and his voice is still a whisper but at least he's answering with honesty. ]
I am pleased. It's been good, amazing. I've never expected you to offer that and I'll never be able to thank you enough. [ Is the truth, he doesn't want Geralt to think it wasn't meaningful to him, that it wasn't the most amazing thing they shared in a long time. ] I even promise not to put it into any songs. [ His arm rests on Geralt's chest, hand close to the man's heart and fingers drawing lazy patterns on the skin. He thinks Geralt has enjoyed him doing that in the past, that it soothes them both. With a pleased sigh escaping his lips and closing his eyes for a moment, he leans into the touch to his cheek. ]
I am happy to know you didn't sleep with Yennefer. [ He admits, a small smile finally grazing his lips and he dares to look at Geralt. It's sad but it's still a smile. ] I just don't know what to think about it.
[ I want to know why you didn't do it, is what he's not saying but it hangs in the air nonetheless. Now that he has admitted it, Jaskier might as well confess the rest as accept the consequences. ]
I don't like to think of you sleeping with Yennefer or anybody else. I don't want anyone in my bed unless it's you. When I came here with that woman, you were pissed and I couldn't fathom why. I still don't fully understand it, but I'm sorry. It hurt you. All I wanted was to forget about you being with her, I wasn't really thinking clearly and I was angry. Jealous. I'm not very good at handling jealously. And I know, I know, I have no right to that. You are not mine and I am not yours, that's what you said.
[Geralt doesn't need doting and he doesn't care that he isn't being stroked or cleaned or the like. He does like doing that for Jaskier after they're together, but he doesn't need it for himself. He is generally satisfied if his partner is, and if Jaskier didn't like physical affection afterward, that would suit him fine. But he knows that the bard enjoys being held and touched, so it is what he expected afterward. And maybe he's gotten used to it and had been waiting for the familiar touch of his soft hands or a playful joke on his lips.
But pulling Jaskier into his embrace seems to have helped and that eases some of his own concern. If Jaskier it, he'd be truly worried. He likes how the bard feels in his arms. Geralt listens to him, slightly paranoid that he's being lied to but he can hear Jaskier's heartbeat.] You don't have to thank me for sex. [It's different when he said it, because Geralt meant specifically how Jaskier allowed him to pick the position when he wanted something else. He frowns and does settle a little when Jaskier's fingers move over the rough skin of his chest. That's soothing.
Ugh, so they do have to talk about it. Geralt acknowledges he put it out there to be discussed, but it's still uncomfortable. He doesn't like that Jaskier is sad. He listens to the rest of his confession without speaking, calm and impassive as usual (when he's not being angry). This entire conversation and situation are too complex for him, but he is going to try very hard to surpass low expectations. He is aware that they both were jealous and this has gone over to possessiveness which is unwise. He should have stopped this a long time ago. He should have never allowed it to start in the first place.]
I am not happy about this conversation and I would rather it not happen, but ... I see it has to happen. Talking is not what I do. [It's outside of his comfort zone. All of this is. Geralt would rather get some time to think through what he wants to say; it's more difficult on the spot. He keeps his arm around Jaskier and frowns, looking straight in front of him instead of at the bard.] I didn't sleep with Yennefer because I didn't want to hurt you, and I knew that it would. But she reminded me of something important.
[Geralt leans his head on top of Jaskier's, smelling his hair, sweaty and very him, closing his eyes. He can't look at him when he's talking about serious things like this. It's one of the details that will take time to change.] I can't grow old with you, Jaskier. I am not human. This may not seem like a problem to you now, but it will be, eventually. There will come a time when you need a different lifestyle and the things you loved about me and our life together will no longer suit you. This is something all magical beings learn eventually about loving humans and why we try to avoid it.
[He is speaking quietly and honestly, giving nothing away about his own feelings on it. These are simply facts. This is what happens with mortals and the long-lived. It has yet to happen to him directly, until now. He's never loved, well, anyone before. Hardening his heart and keeping it that way is far easier. The other option will only hurt him, and that's secretly what this is all about. Protecting himself from pain, from inevitable heartbreak and loss.]
If I am not yours and you are not mine, it will be easier, when we have to part. [Geralt kisses the top of his head. It's not easy, talking so much, especially about subjects he'd rather smash down. He is doing it for Jaskier, he is trying his very hardest, even if that means expressing tragic aspects that neither of them want to think about.] But until that time comes, I can promise you that I will have no one else but you. If that ... helps.
[ It's not just a matter of needing it, it's more like one of those things Jaskier wants to get Geralt used to. He watns to make him understand that he too deserves to be treated with kindness and consideration, even when it's not strictly necessary. It's the same reason why he shakes his head at the man. ]
I don't have to but I wanted to. I really enjoyed it. [ He understands what Geralt thanked him for, of course, but basic decency like listening to your partner when he's not comfortable shouldn't be thanked. It should just happen. He leans in to put a small kiss to the corner of Geralt's mouth when he sees the frown, then lies down with him, listening to what he has to say. ]
These aren't my favorite kind of conversations either. Too awkward. [ Jaskier admits, a self-deprecating smile on his lips. He might have the need to bring it up it but he's always terrified of what these kinds of chats would bring. It still had seemed like an important and necessary one. Geralt is right, sleeping with the witch would have hurt him badly, no matter how often Jaskier reminded himself that some things were inevitable. But apparently, they weren't. There's a fluttering feeling in his stomach, warm, at the thought of Geralt actually caring about his feelings. ]
And it does seem like a problem to me too. [ Jaskier might be foolish but he's not naive. He's been thinking about the future more often in recent years, It has become more tiring to follow Geralt everywhere on foot now than it was a decade ago.
He knows Witchers don't retire and Geralt would refuse to stop fighting until he exhales his last breath, but perhaps one day they could move to a less dangerous part of the continent, like the coast. These kinds of things, Jaskier keeps to himself. It seems safer. This is the most he's heard Geralt talk in a long while, about his concerns no less, and the Witcher is still trying to sound detached. Jaskier can respect that. ]
Human lives are fleeting, which only gives us more reason to not want to waste time. I thought about what might happen as well, and you want to know what? Bollocks to it. I'm exactly where I want to be and doing what I want to do. For the time being, it needs to be enough to live in the present. You could die on me next week, next day, under the claws of a monster. Don't you think I don't fear that every time you get into a fight? [ It is part of the reason why he insists so much in accompanying him, even when it's dangerous. ] We have the present.
[ Where Geralt manages to keep his voice neutral, Jaskier fails spectacularly. Bards aren't mean to be distant but to communicate, to burst with emotion. It's in his nature even if Jaskier hates how often it leaves him open and vulnerable to the cruelty of others. But Geralt, for all his sharp edges and blunt words, isn't cruel. ]
It helps. [ The voice breaks a little at the end and Jaskier covers it by nuzzling Geralt's under the chin after the kiss to his hair. He feels lighter, like a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders. ] It helps lot.
[ His head dips after that, kissing Geralt's neck, the hollow of his collarbone and the center of his chest where the muscles of his abs meet. If Jaskier's lucky, from this angle Geralt won't notice the wetness clinging to his eyelashes, or he will be kind enough not to point it out. The brunette shifts and moves even lower, there are other ways to clean up. His lips glide down Geralt's stomach, teeth nipping at the skin in small bites until the flat of his tongue sweeps over the white stickiness in his lower belly. ]
Good, you should have enjoyed it. [Geralt grumbles grumpily. It was significant, what he did, at least to him. It made him vulnerable in ways he doesn't feel that comfortable with, but it was a good time and he's glad it happened. Perhaps someday he will consider them being face-to-face for it, and the pleasure Jaskier gave him is a fairly convincing argument. He still feels the aftermath of it, the sting of the scratches and bites, the nice burn inside.
Geralt knows if he came back to Jaskier and had to admit he slept with Yen, and he saw the bard's devastated face, it would have hurt him too. It was only a brief few minutes of that in their rough sex, and he felt badly enough he admitted to it. He doesn't like upsetting Jaskier. He used to claim it was because the bard whined and pouted and was very annoying when displeased. And he still is all those things, but he also has a heart worth bruising and Geralt doesn't want to be the person to cut him there. He doesn't add that Yen and he will have a chance in another fifty or sixty years, if they so wish. This is his now, this is who he chose to spend it with. ]
And you could die with me here on the road. You probably will. You will eventually slow down and make it more difficult for me to keep us both alive. [Yen was right about that. He dies younger in your arms. He understands that Jaskier worries for him, but he is still a witcher, he is lethal and difficult to kill. His human is extremely easy to kill.] This is inevitable, Jaskier. There is no end to us that isn't tragic. I wanted to protect you from that.
[That is a key part of his reasoning with all of this. Why he tried to push Jaskier away, why he wanted to make lines for them, why it's been a struggle whenever they get closer. Yes, Geralt is protecting himself, because chances are he will have to live on and mend himself over it. But he is strong and can do it. He will eventually break Jaskier's heart. If he could stop Jaskier from caring about him, he would have spared him that. But it is out of his hands now. There is no going back. They care. He can't talk Jaskier out of it now.
He does notice the wetness and doesn't remark on it. The bard feels a lot, he understands that. It baffles him how one person can have so much emotion in them, but he simply ignores it. Jaskier is allowed to feel whatever he wants. Geralt's breath intakes as his mouth moves down and he sighs, running his fingers through the dark hair. He frowns after a moment and then tugs at Jaskier's hair, trying to get him to look up.]
You didn't say you won't fuck anyone else either. [It is assumed and he doubts Jaskier would be so foolish, but maybe he wants to hear it regardless. The bard is his. He embraces that now, makes it his own. He will break anyone who touches what is his now, although with understanding that them flirting with Jaskier is impossible to stop. He can live with that. Look and don't touch.] I was nice this time.
[ Jaskier answers with a hum, rubbing his cheek on Geralt's skin and letting one of his hands trace the nail marks he's left on the man's hip. He kisses one of them a moment later. It was a gift, what Geralt had shared with him, and not one he will take lightly. He's sure that the Witcher expects him to boast or mock him at some point but in that regard, he might be surprised. Jaskier doesn't actually talk all that much about his conquests, even less about the meaningful ones. To kiss and tell isn't gentlemanly and it would show Geralt no respect, so he won't do it. He won't even tell Yennefer the next time they see each other. It might not be necessary, her intuition is sharper than any sword. If Geralt really left her wanting, it must have taken her a heartbeat to figure out the reason why. Jaskier will need to make sure not to smile too much in her presence, least she decides to turn him into a crow or something or the sort. ]
Death is always inevitable, it comes to the rich, the poor, the great and the low. So what's the point in worrying about it? Death can't take away what we already had. [ It's a romantic way to view things, a contrast of Geralt's more cynical view of life. But maybe that's why they work. Opposites attract. ]
And that's sweet. [ Geralt trying to protect him, Jaskier means, even if his way of doing so it's debatable. Knowing the reasoning behind his actions, it shines a light on them that makes them more understandable. Jaskier bites his stomach, close to his belly button. ] But don't make that kind of choice on my behalf. Tragic ends make for good songs.
[ The tone is playful, mean to lighten the mood, but there's no denying Geralt has a point. Nothing ever ends well for them. They might still have a small chance at happiness, even if it lasts only a few days, a few years, another decade. And he wants to take it. He was about t suck another hickey on the curve of Geralt's hip when the tug gets his attention. He looks up easily and gives a soft smile to his wolf. He has stopped shaking, at last, and his eyes are big and clear. ]
You can smell it if I've been hanging out with other people, I didn't have to tell you that I wasn't sleeping around. [ The bard figured that Geralt had already caught on it and didn't comment because not talking about important things was their way of addressing important things. They did everything backwards. If Geralt wants to be sure now, wants to hear him, he's happy to give confirmation. ] Rest assured, my current interest in bed partners lies only in a white-haired grumpy Witcher with such a firm ass that I could bounce a coin off it. Maybe I should fix the lyrics of Toss a Coin.
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
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He isn't smiling now but there's no less passion. The pleasant buzz of alcohol is now gone, the tense situation from before managed to sober him up. Jaskier doesn't like to think about why he started to drink so much tonight so he gets drunk on Geralt instead. He hadn't been aiming to find someone to share his bed with intentionally but he also didn't discourage the maiden when he should have done it and for that he is sorry. It's not in Jaskier's nature to cause pain or be vicious but even he can be rather unhinged when pushed enough.
When Geralt starts walking them back to the bed JAaskier's hand move to his shirt, pull and push at the same time, as if trying to tear it off of him while simultaneously urging the man faster towards the mattress. He rewards that squeeze to his ass with a grunt against Geralt's lips and his nails rack down the man's chest once he's gotten the shirt out of the way, with force enough to leave scratches.
He's angry. Worse of it, he's also desperate to make Geralt forget about Yennefer of fucking Vengerberg, to rid them both of her smell and her wit and the fascinating eyes. He really shouldn't be the one who is, shouldn't care so much about a man who will eventually go back to her, but life rarely goes the way he wants it. He's in love with a Witcher of all people, he's forever screwed.
Jaskier slaps Geralt's hands away once they get on the bed yet climbs him all the same, just not straddling his lap but only one of his thighs. He doesn't need to be prompted, thank you very much, he knows what he's doing. Except he doesn't and it's mostly being driven by his passions, always a dangerous thing for a bard.
His right-hand closes around a handful of Geralt's hair after the kiss stops, gripping his nape and tugging hard. Geralt has the option of pulling Jaskier of the bed or tilting his head back and exposing his neck. If he chooses the later, Jaskier will hungrily sink his teeth on the exposed skin. Until then, the bard shifts and presses a knee between Geralt's legs, grinding down the front of his pants and adding pressure to his straining cock. ]
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He groans and reacts positively to every time Jaskier seems to be aggressive, moving with him, slapping his hands, straddling his thigh. Then his fingers go into his hair and he tugs tight and Geralt's breath catches. When he bites down on Geralt's neck, exposed despite himself, the witcher actually whimpers and takes it. He's insanely turned on and he wants Jaskier on him, around him, and then, shockingly, in him. This is a very rare impulse for him. Geralt is usually so dominant, but he feels that overwhelming sense of desperation for it. Maybe some part of him wants to be possessed, he wants Jaskier to wipe Yen and all the complex parts of their situation off him.
It's still difficult to admit to a want outside of what comes easily to them, but he isn't sure it's a want, but a need instead. Geralt exposes his neck more in an obvious plea for Jaskier to keep marking him, and he closes his eyes.] Fuck me. [It's rumbled low in his chest, rasping, almost too quiet at first, like he's still getting used to it himself. It is not the first time, but it has been a long time. He grips Jaskier by the hips and then the thighs, lifting him off him for a moment and undoing his tight pants quickly. He isn't looking right at him, face flushed slightly. He gestures for Jaskier to wait as he takes off his pants, and then he climbs on the bed.
He intentionally and by choice gets on his hands and knees, glancing sideways at Jaskier. Presenting himself the exact same way that Jaskier has before, usually with some flirtation and wiggling just to be flirtatious about it, but Geralt doesn't have that in him. If Jaskier wants him in a way Yennefer can't, it's right in front of him, somehow nervous about it. Being submissive is not easy for him, mostly because his instincts want him to buck and be defensive. But he trusts Jaskier.] I want you to fuck me hard like I fuck you.
[He wants to be driven mad by feeling and now there's a little smirk on his lips.] Or is that too much for you? [Is he going to challenge him specifically to get the bard to feed into his defiant side? Oh yes.]
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He moves without thinking, body pressing against his lover when the words reach his ears. 'Fuck me'. It takes him a second to process the unfamiliarity of the request and Jaskier’s eyes widen, momentarily overwhelmed by the magnitude of what Geralt is offering. Sex is how they communicate best, but it's also a show of trust. Geralt looks up at him and the flush in his face makes Jaskier’s chest hurt with affection and hunger, his pupils blow to the point the blue now a thin rin around the blackness. It's the first time he sees Geralt close to blushing, he didn't think such a thing was possible. It's incredibly hot and he wants to undo him, fuck Geralt's brains out until his eyes roll behind his head, leave him a sated mess.
After the Witcher lifts him and tugs at his pants, not an easy feat giving how his cock is straining agains the fabric, Jaskier gets quickly rid of any other piece of cloth he still has on. Geralt might, just might, have a point when he complains about the bard wearing far too many layers to be practical. Not everyone is a mutated Witcher impervious to the cold and extra layers are needed. Plus, he likes to look good and catch Geralt's eye, as vain as that might be.
After he turns, Jaskier makes an effort not to stare at the muscles of Geralt’s scarred back, the perfect curve of his ass but he's only human. It's a really pretty view. Something flares in Jaskier's eyes at the taunting. ]
Don't test me, Witcher.
[ 'I know what you're doing', his eyes say, because Jaskier has done the same thing to him before, many times. He wants to kiss the man senseless, wants to bruise his mouth. Instead, because he tells himself he's still mad, Jaskier brings a hand down and slaps his ass. Leaning in, he nips at the reddened skin before Geralt can say anything and bites down hard. ]
Stay put. [ He moves to get close to the nightstand, the muscles in his shoulders on display when he stretches and closes his hand around the vial of oil. He might be pissed off at Geralt and give him exactly the rough treatment the man craves but there's pain and then there's pain. Only one of them is fun in the bedroom and Jaskier despises the other. He would rather hang himself than hurt anybody that way, least of all Geralt.
They really are shameless, the bard muses as he uncorks the small bottle with his teeth, noticing how they just left it right next to the bed for convenience. He very pointedly does not think in deep about the maidservant who changed their sheets that morning but takes mental note to leave her a big tip before they leave. ]
Didn't know you had it in you. [ Jaskier says conversational, bringing up the words Geralt told him a little while ago and coating his fingers until they're slick enough. ] But if you change your mind...eeh, you can pretty much throw me across the room, so... [ Can do, doesn't mean Would do, so Jaskier wants to make it clear that if Geralt is uncomfortable or wants to stop for whatever season, they will. No hard feelings. And because things were turning sentimental again, Jaskier stares at the wooden bedpost, considers its resistance, then meets Geralt's eyes. His smile is wolfish. ] Hands up there.
[ It's not a request. And yes, he knows he's pushing it but he has the feeling Geralt likes him pushy too. If the Witcher's hands are busy then he can't touch himself, and if he can't control his pleasure, then what happens to it is Jaskier's decision. As an incentive, he moves his fingers between Geralt's thighs, sliding up until his thumb is gently circling the ring of muscle. His knuckles graze over the curve of the perineum, testing Geralt's reaction to the new feeling. Jaskier has never seen him with another man and while Geralt looks too sure of himself to be his first time doing this, and he wants to be careful. He's not treating him with kid gloves, though, his other hand slides down Geralt's back and scratches him here and there, grabs his sides, his hip. Then it moves further, kneading the left glove of his ass, nails digging in and pulling his cheeks apart. ]
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He already expects that Jaskier will ease the way with oil, like he always does, both of them more inclined toward pleasure even with a bit of pain to it. It's for the best too because it has been a long time since he let anyone mount him, and he knows his body is not as open to it as others. When Jaskier slaps his ass Geralt groans loudly and humps the air in front of him, desire flooding through him to one place.] Again. [He says throatily, so the next time Jaskier gets a chance he knows it will be welcome. ]
I will not change my mind. [But yes, he does know that if he wants to stop, he can make Jaskier stop at any point. Or ask him to, and he will. That's why this is a symbol of trust between them. Geralt wants this. He is not hiding his eagerness when he follows the instructions and holds onto the bedpost. He knows this means that Jaskier will have his body, every part of it, this will be his show for once. And for some reason he craves it, needs it. He wants to forget, and having sex with Jaskier gives him the ability to focus on anything but his thoughts. This is different. He'll be consumed by Jaskier, owned by him. Yennefer does a good job of pushing him around, making him helpless to her desires, and he is sharing his pleasure of that feeling with his bard now.
Besides, a part of him wants Jaskier to get out this anger and pain and take a piece of him for it. Geralt's legs spread to give Jaskier more room between them. His breath catches at the first feeling of aa finger on him.] I'm not made of glass. [He snaps, demanding more. There is no doubting that he's tight though. Relaxing is not easy for him. He grits his teeth and forces himself to not make his more difficult. His cock is hard and leaking and he wants it, desire is radiating off him.
His back arches when nails touch his skin and he rocks back demandingly toward Jaskier's body and fingers. He would let Jaskier fuck him right here with no preparation, accepting the pain easily if it got him inside. His fingers grip the headboard tightly and his head bows, breathing deeply.] I want you in me. Get the fuck in me.
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The problem lies in Geralt himself, though, and how impatient he can get when sex is involved. It's so different from his usual calm and aloof demeanor. Count on him to still be demanding even in this position. Usually, it pleases Jaskier more than anything and today is no exception. But today he's also the one who sets the pace, since Geralt offered, and he's in no rush to make this quick. He intends to savor every second of it, to draw it out and chase away the painful memories of what happened earlier. Geralt might not have the healthiest coping mechanism but neither does Jaskier. Birds of a feather, as they say.
The Witcher voicing that his mind is set and then following Jaskier's command without a fuss makes the younger man pleased in a way he can't put in words. It earns Geralt a pleased purr and the palm of a hand connecting with the back of his thigh in a way Jaskier is sure stings the right way. The bard ignores the next order, pressing a finger into him at a very unhurried pace, letting him get used to the stretch. No one would take a look at Geralt and call him fragile but no matter how many muscles he has, Jaskier only cares about the ones tightening around his finger. Because Geralt is so, so tight right now that fuck, Jaskier wants that heat surrounding his cock. And he wants Geralt begging, shaking and relaxed by the time it happens.
At the protest, Jaskier moves up and leans in, face tucked into Geralt's neck, this breath hot again the shell of his ear. ] I want that too, and I will. [ The voice is low and terse, his teeth biting the earlobe. Jaskier finger curls up, press against the bundle of nerve he knows it's inside there, teasing. ] Eventually.
[ He anticipates a protest and smacks Geralt's ass a third time with more force as the man wanted before, the sound echoing in the room. Jaskier's lips move down the curve of his back, between his shoulder blades and over some of the scars. He doesn't mention the scars, he's seen them before and understands Geralt's feelings about how they came to be but they're another part of his Witcher and he adores them like the rest of him. Scarred but still whole, alive. And now, all his to do as he pleases.
Jaskier is no slouch in bed, he takes pride and joy in leaving his partners much happier than when they first met him. He is also aware that his stamina can't compare to that of a Witcher but that's okay, he gets to be creative in bed with Geralt. As he sees it, they have all night and he can make him come as many times as he sees fit before they even get to rut against each other like beasts. There's no way that will not be fun, and will surely earn him a few snarls because Geralt has the patience of a toddler with absolutely no concept of delayed gratification.
The brunette shifts his posture, kneeling properly behind Geralt and withdrawing his finger, ignoring his own unintended cock, heavy and so hard again his lower belly. Hands squeeze the flesh of Geralt's ass and Jaskier is smirking, which should be the Witcher's first clue that the bard is up to no good. ]
I'd gag you if I weren't sure you will bite through it, and there's no point in ruining a perfectly fine silk handkerchief. That...and I enjoy hearing you far too much.
[ Then, without another word, Jaskier licks him. It's a slow and wet hot stripe right between the cheeks, tongue pressing over where his fingers had been a second ago. His breath huff out against the man's pucker when Jaskier pauses only for a second to gauge his reaction. He’s closing his eyes and licking again in no time, the flat of his tongue hard against the sensitive skin. It presses on him, in him, working Geralt open, thrusting as deep as he can, kneading at one cheek and then the other. ]
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His breath intakes sharply at the first movement of Jaskier's finger into him and he feels like his skin is on fire. Tingling. Everywhere Jaskier is touching it lights up, such as when his body goes up against him and he leans his head toward Jaskier's hot murmuring mouth. Gods he knew the bard was hot, he never got enough of fucking him, but he might be impressed. Then he twists his fingers and Geralt's fingers dig into the headboard, hissing.]
Jask--- [His rough voice sounds like it absolutely was about to protest or demand more and then Jaskier slaps his ass and he groans. He is usually quiet in bed, even when he makes noise it's muted, but this one rumbles hard in his chest. He's done that to others before, who requested it, but didn't think to ask for it himself. The fact Jaskier just seems to know what he wants is baffling to him; or maybe he's so turned on that he can do almost anything and it will work on Geralt.
The irritated look he shoots over his shoulder when Jaskier removes his finger. He's supposed to add more of them, not pull them out, how the fuck is he supposed to get ready without that? If the bard teases him too much he will snap eventually and take it from him. He will ride that cock in a punishing form if he doesn't get on with it. That being said, golden eyes are confused when he sees that smirk, knowing Jaskier's about to do something mischievous.]
I am going to fucking st--- [Strangle was going to be his word and then his eyes widen in shock as Jaskier licks him. Geralt almost loses his balance in his surprise, scrambling harder with his grip on the headboard. He gives a full body shiver and his heart pounds so fast it is closer to a human beat than a witcher one.] Fuck. [That sounds weak at best, more amazed, and it is clear he's never had this happen to him before. He turns his head back to the wall and rests his forehead down on the headboard between his hands, gasping for breath. It feels incredible. Hot and wet and new and his head is spinning from lust.]
Yes. [It's all he can murmur out of little gasp-moans and his body is adjusting to this new sensation. He does seem to open up more now, relaxing around Jaskier's tongue and touch, almost like the surprise of it got through to his stubborn tension and he's just so fascinated to keep experiencing it. The problem is he likes it too much. There is a desperation in how he starts wiggling his hips and leaning back into it. A single touch from a hand on his painfully hard cock would set him off, that's how on edge he is.] More, I need ....
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His lips curl into a smile at every grunt, every snarl and moan he can wring out of Geralt. He's often the one at the other's mercy during sex, which he loves honestly, and it feels so good to tease him back that it would almost be enough to get Jaskier off. Almost. Geralt is growling but he's still behaving, the headboard intact even if it might not be for long, and Jaskier is proud of him. He had joked in the past that he would do anything Geralt wants if the man asks nicely but the truth is that he would do anything the man wants for no other reason than it would make Geralt happy. Hence the scratches and the smacks, and the biting. The last one is especially easy because Jaskier is as fond of marking him as he is of being marked in return.
The way Geralt chest rumbles after the bard slaps his ass has Jaskier's heart skipping a beat, answering with a purr born deep down in his throat. It's rare for Geralt to noisy and he treasures the moments when they happen. He tries to pay attention to the tell-tales of what might turn on Geralt, the things he only hints at and the one he outright demands. He has to stifle a chuckle after Geralt's curse is cut short and doesn't fully manages it. His tongue ripples with a contained laugh, vibrations against the Witcher's most intimate muscles.
The ripple and subdued swear that follows is endearing and it dawns on Jaskier that he's really managed to catch him off guard this time. The hand that was squeezing one of Geralt's thigh slides up, pressing the flat of his warm palm on his lower back, thumb moving in small circles. A grounding touch, 'I've got you', it tells. Everything it's easier after that, the tension in Geralt's body marginally decreasing with every sweep of Jaskier's tongue. When the hand retreats, it does so while digging the nails along the skin of Geralt's back and thighs. ]
I know. [ Jaskier says, voice roughened with desire. He tilts head to the side, kisses and bites at the flesh of his arse. He mouths one cheek, then the other, enough so it stings for a moment. The heels of his hands are placed where strong thighs meet the curve of Geralt's ass and spreads him, then returns to bury his face between the cheeks again. The burning warmth of his tongue laps cat-like at his hole and then Jaskier groans deep in his chest as if he can't get enough of Geralt's taste. He's not trying to tease any more, knowing that the other man is at his limit. The bard can read the signs, see it in the bend in his spine, the rocking of the hips, the waves of sensation racking through his body.
He licks him open, first with long, slow strokes across the skin and then letting his tongue slide in faster, pushing deeper, getting into a rhythm. Jaskier's spit dribbles down his chin, mixing with the smeared oil, leaving Geralt's puffy and pink hole a wet mess. He doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, even as he starts feeling a little out of breath. A slick hand sneaks between Geralt's legs and grips his cock, firm and steady, giving some rough tugs while Jaskier tenses his tongue and wriggle it inside him. ]
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His strength is something that occasionally he has to consider. He doubts they'll make it through this night without him breaking the bed at some point. Because of that he is more hesitant about smacking Jaskier, so instead he typically squeezes his body and bites, things he knows he likes. But clearly at the moment he is loving every slap; Jaskier being this strong and aggressive is really doing it for him. He will have to reward him later for it. His bard isn't so soft after all.
Geralt feels like he's a livewire, wanting to struggle away from the pleasure he's being given and into it at the same time. It's overwhelming, more than he expected, to be opened like this. The touch of Jaskier's hand to his lower back, the sweet caress that is clearly meant to be reassuring, is taken both well and badly by Geralt at the same time. He appreciates the thought while struggling with the concept that he needs reassurance. It is going to take time for him to get used to letting someone in, both literally and emotionally.
He's distracted from his discomfort by the feel of Jaskier's teeth on his arse and he really doesn't care now. Jaskier can do anything, ask anything, he's lost his grip on keeping his mind intact. Geralt swears and feels a rush of relief when the bard doesn't seem to be teasing, he's amping up his behavior instead. If he didn't have incredible stamina he might have begged for him to stop, but Geralt's three times as quick to bounce back as an average human. So he allows himself to have this. He lets the pressure and pleasure build until it's agony, he rocks back into Jaskier's tormenting mouth and growls, his nails digging hard enough into the headboard to make a scratching mark.
When Jaskier touches his cock it's such a sudden change from the new sensation of being opened and something so grounding and familiar. He whimpers and his control fractures, thrusting his hips forward into Jaskier's hand and coming a very short few seconds later. Geralt gives a guttural low cry that might be Jaskier's name and he bites his own bleeding lip, the copper and pain making it all the sweeter.
He breathes in a long shuttering sigh and then out again, his body loosened now, between Jaskier's actions and an orgasm. He hums, deep and content, and doesn't turn.] That was good. [He murmurs, understated to say the least, and lets go of one of his hands from the head board to reach behind him and stroke fingers through Jaskier's hair.] Now fuck me. [Geralt has no interest in an afterglow. His hunger is not sated.]
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There are limits of course, he does draw the line at certain practices. Being on the receiving end of a smacking doesn't do much for him, it doesn't work for his libido as it does for Geralt's. The other man doesn't have to worry about not delivering that particular kink. While Jaskier has joked with the Witcher about gags, being actually tied up it's something he does not enjoy. It makes him skittish and too tense, and if he were honest with himself, Jaskier would admit that it scares him to be at someone's mercy and not being able to move, even if that someone is a partner he knows well. Maybe that's a conversation he has to have with Geralt one day but getting him to talk about kinks might just be as impossible as getting him to admit he has feelings of any sort.
It's a worry for another day, now his mind has zeroed on the way Geralt's body is quivering, how he rocks back against his mouth and the cracking the wood makes under his hands when he comes. Jaskier withdraws from him when he starts to worry about over-stimulation, placing one last, loud and wet kiss on Geralt's left cheek. As the man reaches back and plays with the bard's hair, the action earning him a contended whimper, Jaskier brings his cum stained hand to his lips and licks his fingers clean while staring at Geralt. He beams at the praise.
Is the happy hum Geralt is making what prompts Jaskier to nuzzle into his back, wrapping his hands around the narrow waist, reveling in the feel of the strong muscles against his chest, the incredible animal warmth of him. His cock is now pressed against the perfect curve of Geralt's ass and Jaskier is kind of dying from holding back for so long, but he can handle a few more minutes. His fingers grip the nape of Geralt's neck, pressure sure and hard and bring their faces close. It's clear he wants to kiss him but doesn't just yet, Geralt might not be comfortable with that after what he's done, which is fine. ]
No need for a break? [ Brown eyebrows rise, impressed. Jaskier shouldn't be surprised, though, goddamn Witchers' stamina, lucky bastards. ] Good, I'm far from done with you. Now, let go of the headboard, I want your hands on me.
[ Leaning back and reluctantly also letting go of his lover, Jaskier sits on the mattress. His hardness is bordering on painful now and he pulls at Geralt's wrist to try and convince him to move. The bard pats at his own thighs, his smile sharp. ] Sit on me.
[ Another request but said in a softer voice, almost like he wants to plea for that to happen but Jaskier knows is better not to. He keeps eye contact with Geralt, intense and possessive, watching him with hunger. It's a big turn on to have Geralt bent down in front of him but Jaskier wants to see his face, wants to touch and kiss and bite. A selfish part of him says that he only wants Geralt to see who is leaving him an incoherent mess, but the honest truth is that Jaskier wants them both to be on equal ground. They're partners in more than one sense of the word, and Jaskier wants him to feel like a person, not a piece of meat or something to be used. ]
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He contently leans back into Jaskier, glad for the hands on his waist and he is hungry when he feels his bard's cock so close to where he wants it. Geralt's mouth goes dry he and he moves his arse back so he can rub it against Jaskier. He's begging for it with his body if not in words. Geralt needs no break, he needs the bard to be inside of him already. He's dismayed when Jaskier moves away and something about his posture stiffens all at once.
Usually, Geralt has no problem saying no. He says it sharply, firmly, knowing what he wants, knowing what he doesn't want. This is the first time he can remember where he hesitates, swallowing down the no at first. The problem is, if he says no, he has to explain. He does not want to explain. Geralt can barely put into words that he wants to be fucked in the first place, let alone complicated details like the fact he can't look Jaskier in the eye right now. It's not shame, it's emotion. He has to guard his eyes and he will be so focused on doing that, it'll hold him back. He will struggle with pleasure, struggle with feeling this freedom he's craving to let someone have him.
It should be clear by now, since he's not obeying Jaskier and yet also not taunting him as if it's a game, that there's something going on, whirling, in his head. It may show in when he does look at Jaskier, briefly, but has trouble keeping his gaze, and there's stone on his face again, like he's iced over or attempting to. He wants to say no but he doesn't want to explain, and he doesn't want Jaskier to be upset, both because of the no and lack of explanation. At this point Geralt has to have faith. Jaskier knows him. He won't push him.]
No. [He says. Geralt may not want to be fucked face to face, but he does turn to look at Jaskier, his eyes guarded. He crawls closer to him on the bed and grabs him by the back of the neck, tugging him in for a knee-weakening kiss. He doesn't care about the taste or any of that. He wants Jasker to know that it's not lack of want of him. Geralt pulls away and finally just says what's on his mind.] I want it in that position, and I don't want to explain why.
[He feels very tense at the moment and more than a little uncertain if this is going to blow up or not. Geralt really wants to keep it at that, but he is about to let this man come inside of his body. He can probably give him a little more.] No to this time. [There, that will hopefully communicate that it's not a no forever, but whatever is going on in his head, it isn't going to be solved in this moment.
That communicated, more than he really feels comfortable doing, this is all outside of his comfort zone and he really is doing his best. Every part of him is rebelling. Geralt goes back into position, hoping trusting him wasn't a mistake.] Fuck me, Jaskier. [Saying please is far too much for him at the moment, but there is almost an implication there, like he's biting off the word rather than it not coming to his lips at all.]
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All right. [ Jaskier agrees once they break the kiss, doesn't argue or sounds mad. He had promised Geralt that he was going to listen if the man told him to stop or if he was uncomfortable. Geralt might not have used those exact words but a simple 'no' suffices. Jaskier doesn't like the way his whole body has tensed up all of sudden.
He's realizing that maybe Geralt isn't only trying to prove something to him but also dealing with a personal issue because of the way he hesitated. Generally, no matter what they do, he's bold and direct, especially when voicing his displeasure. This change in behaviors is puzzling but he knows when to push and when to give the wolf some space. ]
I think I can make that sacrifice, get you to stop you from being able to think so much. [ The tone is light, a joke meant to get everything back on track and the situation less tense for Geralt. It's meant to reassure him that it's all fine even if Jaskier is not completely happy. He's worried about his partner but Geralt said 'this time' so that opens up the door for some unexpected things in the future. He thought this was going to be a one-time thing only, gods, he's luckier than he ever imagined. ]
Since you asked so nicely, sunshine. [ He grins while saying the last word, intentionally looking to make the Witcher grunt in exasperation.
In a blink he's back to pressing his chest to Geralt's back, one of his hands sliding around the man's sides and moving to his chest, the other buries itself on Geralt's hair and tugs. Jaskier starts toying with his nipples, rolling one of the quickly hardening buds between his thumb and index finger and then flicking the tip. His mouth finds the curve of his Geralt's and starts working on a mark there. He's back to being hard and wanting, cock pressed to Geralt's ass, but before they go further Jaskier wants him to relax again.
And so, he starts with the dirty talking.
Jaskier had always had a way with words, it was necessary for his profession and his creativity got better with the years. He doesn't deliver sickly-sweet verses this time, opting for bold and direct and crude, raw feeling and need. Jaskier tells Geralt that he want him to scream his name when he comes, that he wants to feel his cock twitch inside the Witcher, leave him hoarse from screaming, fuck him like he owns him and make it so Geralt can't walk straight tomorrow, and what does Geralt think about Jaskier dominating him? Would he want the bard to eat him out more often? Or maybe make him come with just his fingers knuckle deep in his ass, milking his prostate?
It's not degrading because Jaskier is still testing the waters about what works and doesn't for Geralt, but there's growing desperation in his own voice too. It had dropped a few octaves and gotten thick with need, his cock almost twitching as it slides between Geralt's ass cheeks without yet burying himself into the man's body. ]
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The sunshine absolutely gets a sharply irritated look.] I will toss your ass out of this room. [He tries not to smile and mostly fails, but then Jaskier's on him. Geralt's body is waking up again and he hmms in satisfaction, warming to Jaskier's touch. He likes the feeling of arms around him, clever hands playing with his nipples until they're to a hard point. He groans his pleasure the moment Jaskier's mouth is on his neck and he can feel Jaskier's cock there. It's hot and hard and he wants it.
Jaskier did have a way with words. Geralt hates how much he wants him to talk but when he's saying filth like that, the witcher can't do much more than breath steadily and nod his head. Yes he wants him to do all of those things, and while they won't all happen, the fantasy of it is very good all the same. He doesn't feel like it's degrading at all; he enjoys hearing all of it and the low rumbles and growls in his throat say as much. Not to mention he hears Jaskier's voice get deeper and he growls, frustrated.]
Jaskier. [Geralt's voice is throaty and low and angry, groaning when he feels Jaskier's cock between his cheeks but not going inside of him. He spreads his knees apart, bending down more so his back arches just right, making his arse stick up higher in the air, tantalizing him.] Fucking fuck me, right now, or I am going to lose my shit and break your lute over your godsdamn not-fucking-me head. [He's gotten properly riled up now and he jerks himself back, rubbing friction on Jaskier's cock.
Geralt's cock has started to come back, growing slowly with those filthy words whispered, but he's not getting harder until he gets what he's desperately starving for. He never thought he would be this much of a physical mess, pathetically begging with his body, and maybe he'd be angry about it another time. But the timing now is perfect for his ego not to get in the way.] If you want to own my ass then fucking take it.
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Fucking fuck me, right now, or I am going to lose my shit and break your lute over your godsdamn not-fucking-me head.
...insufferable. Jaskier has no idea why he's even in this relationship.
If you want to own my ass then fucking take it.
Ah, yeah, okay, that's part of the why. ]
Fuck you, no. [ Jaskier says, voice cracking. He's still angry at Geralt, it's just hard to remember that when all he can finally smell is the man under him, the scent of lilacs long forgotten. Hand gripping his hair, Jaskier growls into his ear. ] You don't get to order me around tonight.
[ He's being contrary for the sake of his pride and because it turns Geralt on. Part of him finds it immensely gratifying, that the Witcher is this on edge because of him, for him. Geralt is more relaxed now but no less calm and Jaskier is at his limit, he doesn't want to drag things out anymore. A snarl of his own is the last sounds he makes before Jaskier bites down rather viciously on the curve of his neck. He sneaks a hand down between their bodies to grab his own cock and angles himself. Geralt's still wet enough from the attention of his mouth and his slicked fingers that it's easy, and Jaskier pushes into him in a move that seems wholly instinctual.
Immediately, he feels the full pressure-drag down deep, all around his cock, and curses under his breath. He struggles not to buck up into the sensation too hard, because, fuck, fuck, it's good, so good and so tight and so warm. Jaskier can imagine the discomfort of the breach Geralt might be feeling. No matter how aggressive the other man wants him to be, he stills his hips for a few seconds, let's him adjust to the stretch. ]
Aaah, that's, fuck...you’re so, this is... [ Being inside Geralt It's like nothing he's ever felt before. It's heady, just the implications of it, that Jaskier is in him and that Geralt allowed it, craved it. It's enough to make him gasps raggedly, start moving his hips in a deliberately slow roll, one hand clutching Geralt's hair and the other clutching his hip, nails digging in. The first proper thrust happens without warning too. Jaskier gasps against Geralt's neck and starts to rock forward. He nips and bites his shoulder, his neck, trembling and gasping and not managing to produce a single coherent sentence any longer. ]
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It's been a very long time since he let anyone take him and while yes, it is slightly discomforting, especially since he is not good at relaxing, it's also perfect. Geralt likes a little bit of pain and his body stretches and adjusts to the intrusion slowly, but he moans his pleasure, his relief. He didn't realize exactly how much he wanted this, more so than he even knew when he asked for it the first place. It's hot and intense and Jaskier surrounds him. All of his senses, everywhere he can be touched, Jaskier is there. He wants him to dive in, he wants it to be hard, but he lets Jaskier take it his way. To start.]
Yes, fuck yes.[He makes a strangled sound when Jaskier moves his hips like that and the nails on his hip are a perfect contrast so the pleasure burning through him.] More, do it, more. [Geralt's hands tighten on the bedpost again, a creak heard, and he drops one hand from it, his other one sturdy enough. His thick arm hooks up and around, fingers digging into Jaskier's sweaty hair. He is not staying passive, rocking his hips back into Jaskier's cock, obscenely spread now for Jaskier to have him. His own cock is back to fully hard and dripping with want.]
Hard, I can take it. [His voice is low and rasping, strained. It isn't a surprise that the witcher's powerful body wants to be strung out and used. Gentle is not his way, whether it's him taking or being the taken. Jaskier feels incredible though. Geralt keeps his neck purposely exposed so Jaskier can bite him as much as possible. In his lust-filled and unfocused mind, he knows Jaskier doesn't want him to order. Begging is also not something he likes the idea of, except he is so deeply desperate right then. He's already letting the man take him like this, so he can forgive himself.]
Fuck my brains out. [Geralt grits his teeth, needing more, needing the sound of their flesh smacking and Jaskier's words in his ears.] Please. [The word is a beg, but not the tone Geralt is using it in. That will have to suffice. He makes the please sound like a demand, but it is a please, no matter how it's choked out.]
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He's moved the white hair aside and it's sucking a rough hickey onto the back of Geralt’s neck, just where it would brush with the collar of his shirt if it lasted long enough. Stupid Witchery powers and enhanced healing, ruining the fun. Only once he would like to see the bruises on Geralt body in the morning, right where he put them the night before.
There's a strong hand tangling in his hair and Jaskier seems so pleased by the extra contact that he moans, sounding as stripped raw as he feels. He slides out of him slowly and then pushes back in quicker, slamming into Geralt, and it's twice as good as the first times. His eyes flutter shut, breath punched out of him with a groan, and he can't find his voice to speak back because when Jaskier is really lost into sex, it's the only time he's actually capable of silence.
Pleas aren't something he expects from Geralt and hearing one becomes more rewarding for that reason alone. He doesn't care that it sounds like another growl, that is bossy, because a tiger can't change its stripes and a Witcher isn't used to show vulnerability. Jaskier understands it well enough to reward Geralt for the attempt. Rocking his hips, the bard moves his legs a bit and changes the angle, aiming for his sweet spot, first fucking Geralt with sharp, shallow thrusts and then deeper ones, dragging his cock against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside.
If things were easier, better between them, Jaskier would be able to see his face properly and bite his lips with a ferocity that would leave Geralt breathless. 'No to this time', Geralt had said, and the bard really hopes he keeps his word because being inside him feels fucking fantastic and there's pretty much nothing he wouldn't do to have a second chance at it. If things were easier, he wouldn't have to worry about sharing the man with Yennefer and never having him fully. The thought stings and he doesn't want to think anymore. Jaskier ends up digging his fingers into Geralt's narrow waist, and then it's far too natural to hold him, stepping up the pace of his thrusts until the rhythm is just short of brutal, both feeling the hot burn of the shift. ]
I'm still pissed at you. [ Jaskier says with gritted teeth and then leans all his weight into him.
His right-hand slides down Geralt's stomach, wrapping his fingers around the man's thick cock and squeezing. He starts to jerk him in rhythm with his thrust, except that when he feels Geralt starts to tense up under him, Jaskier's hand slides down further and he grips the base of his cock to keep him from coming. ]
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The reward for his please definitely tells him he should do it more often, even if it pricked his pride, because Jaskier is fucking him in a deliciously perfect way. Geralt can't keep his hand in brown hair, Jaskier hits his sweet spot with vicious aim and Geralt's hand is forced to grip the headboard again to keep him steady. He doesn't mind, he needs to be grounded with how thoroughly Jaskier's taking him and it gives him the strength to push back into him.
The more brutal Jaskier is the louder Geralt is, so keep at it, because his groans and snarls tell the story. Geralt's aggressively pushing back and then forward and the headboard is banging loudly on the wall, something he likes when it's Jaskier underneath him, a whimpering mess. Geralt isn't a whimpering mess, he's much more animalistic in the moment, nails scratching open the wood, his teeth gritting. He eagerly lets Jaskier's hands on his hips control him for a moment, enjoying staying still and letting Jaskier's brutal strokes take over.
The words barely make it through a fog of lust, he's confused by them. There's nothing in Geralt's mind at the moment but them having wild sex, and it feels good. Not as good, really, as when he's plunging inside of Jaskier, but still what he needed at the moment. His breath shutters and he closes his eyes, making a pleased rumble when Jaskier finally grips his cock. He builds up to his orgasm, or at least he plans on it, before the hand on him decides to halt it.
Geralt is shocked out of his haze, and he teeters very close on the edge. He could snap Jaskier's hand right off of him, force the bard on his knees, fuck him for such insolence. Except in his riled state he wouldn't be feral, and he wouldn't want that. He is flushed red and bucks back at Jaskier, a clear warning that he is far from as submissive as he may be allowing then. Geralt snarls at him.]
I didn't fuck her. [It's a hissed admission. Geralt did eventually plan on confessing, probably, depending on how easy he could brush it off without explaining. But he's angry about being punished for something he didn't do. Jaskier has no reason to be angry. Geralt wasn't unfaithful to him. Not that he would call it that, they aren't monogamous even if they've stopped having sex with other people, but still. He doesn't feel like explaining that when Jaskier is balls-deep in him. Stop being a fucking prick and come in me. [He says it and oh does he want it, licking his dry lips.]
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But It turns out that Geralt isn't too keen on being dominated or controlled, who would have thought. Jaskier has half a mind not to smile too broadly. For once he's glad that they're not face to face because if Geralt hadn't killed him for keeping him from coming, he would have bitten his head off after seeing his grin. And then, Geralt's words sink in and he feels like all the air has been ripped from his chest. ]
You didn't...y-you, bastard. [ Jaskier's voice is strained, brittle, like his control is fraying or he wants to cry at the revelation. It's relieving but devastating for the terrible timing, like feeling the floor drop out from under him. From all the times to tell him, to explain himself, the Witcher goes and chooses this very moment? Goddamn Geralt of Rivia, he always finds a way to screw him up even when Jaskier isn't the one getting fucked. The bard almost wants to scream. His cock has other ideas, though, the traitorous bastard, and he feels himself getting close, in part because Geralt demands it.
Which is about the point he completely loses it.
His free hand grips Geralt's jawline to make him turn his head and crushes his lips against the man. The angle is not right, necks can only twist too much until it gets painful, and Jaskier is using more teeth than actual tongue, but he does not fucking care about anything anymore. He can't tell if he feels angry at not knowing sooner, pleased that Geralt didn't give into her, or if he's just going mental.
He rams into Geralt with a force he didn't know he had in him, breaks the kiss to gasp wetly against his neck and lets go of his face to rack his nails down his back, leaving four angry red marks. Jaskier pants, forehead resting between Geralt's shoulder blades, tightening his grip on the man’s cock, no longer keeping him from tipping over the edge but encouraging it. Long fingers squeeze him from base to tip, swiping his thumb along with the head of his cock. Fast, rough and unrelenting.
The muscles of Jaskier's stomach tense and he can hear his own heartbeat in his throat, his jaw slacking and his rhythm starts staggering. His mouth makes a shaky noise that sounds like Geralt's name over and over and over until the only thing that comes out is a snarl followed by a draw out moan. He's pressing into Geralt in one long grind and then falling apart, coming in a hot pulse deep inside the other man that only adds to the sensation of electricity starting at the base of his spine and rushing upward. ]
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Luckily he has a lead on the monster they're dealing with here because of Yennefer, so they'll shut their mouths if it means he'll save their lives. And maybe have to throw in the price of fixing the headboard. He has some stupid hope that telling Jaskier in the heat of the moment will keep him from having to explain himself, as opposed to in the quiet of the afterglow, and that's his intention until forced otherwise. It gets him what he wants right then so who cares. He turns his head at Jaskier's request and it's not comfortable but he'll allow it. It's not as personal as face to face would be and he enjoys it.
Their first night together, Geralt was in complete control, he moved Jaskier how he wanted him, he ordered him around, and overtime it's eased, he's allowed Jaskier to make more demands and experiment with what they both enjoy best in bed. That is why Jaskier clearly knows what he wants the most. Between him being rough and hard, slamming into Geralt with the same kind of force he himself likes to give, and the scratches on his back, the witcher moans. He keeps murmuring yes, over and over again, sometimes louder and sometimes quieter, to spur Jaskier on.
What he said got Jaskier to touch him again and he could only let himself be dizzy with relief, thrusting into his hand and seeking the release he needs. The headboard finally cracks from the pressure of his fingers in it, not broken off entirely but that may end up in the cost of their room. Geralt feels the bard start to fall apart and gets greedy for it, rolling his hips back until Jaskier goes deep inside of him and the wood under his nails cracks in a different spot. He comes the second that Jaskier fills him up, hot and wet, and he whites out with it. It sounds like the rushing of white noise in his head and he breathes raggedly, head pressed between his hands.
Geralt isn't entirely certain why he needed this but he feels complete because of it. He feels like there's less of a weight on his chest, of words haunting his ears, and there's a certainty of Jaskier's life thudding around him here. Maybe it's because he felt out of control and needed to let someone else take it from him to feel better. Whatever the reason, he feels relaxed and soothed. He's come twice now and perhaps not for the last time tonight.
Typically he moves out of Jaskier just so he doesn't put too much weight on him, but the bard's weight is nothing on top of him in comparison. He leaves him where he is, contently humming with him still wrapped around him, although now he can release the headboard for real. His sweaty arm goes back up around him and strokes fingers through Jaskier's hair, gentler this time, affectionate.] Mmm, thanks. [Geralt doesn't thank people frequently, but he is pliant at the moment.] For doing it my way.
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Usually, Jaskier has enough finesse not to collapse on top of his bed partners but it's been a long time since he's done this - that with only sleeping with Geralt exclusively because that's what monogamous really means- and his vision has blacked out for a few seconds. He doesn't immediately realize that his arms are around the Witcher's chest until the man shifts and a hand is pleasantly petting at his hair, getting a purr out of him. ] Hmm...my pleasure.
[ For a moment, he's just happy.
Jaskier is not going to forget any time soon the way Geralt moves against him, how he feels inside and what kinds of sounds he makes when he comes with a cock in his ass. Tilting his head, he presses a kiss to Geralt's shoulder, right next to one of his previous bites and moves so they can both lie down on the bed. Jaskier is careful while sliding out of Geralt, no matter how much stronger than him is the other man some things are uncomfortable if not done right. Geralt is always careful with him and the bard wants to show him the same deference. He wants to curl up against Geralt but he has no clue if that's a thing they do anymore. And that doubt brings out the rest of them that were floating in the back of his mind.
I thought you slept with Yennefer. Why didn't you?
It's all he can think about now and all he wants to ask. He has to ask. Jaskier hates himself already because he can anticipate Geralt's reaction, which won't be nice no matter the reason, but he.has.to.ask.
His lips part.
No words come out.
He closes them again.
Jaskier drops his head, looks at the hands in his lap so he doesn't have to stare at Geralt's piercing eyes. He doesn't seem to be able to stop shaking. It's a light tremble, but it's there, no longer to be justified as a result of his orgasm. He focuses on breathing, blue eyes wide and blinking as if he's not all sure about what just happened between them or how to feel. What he knows is that Geralt is never inclined to explain himself and asking would only earn him a dismissal. When the brunette finally speaks, his voice is soft and fairly lost, dejected. ]
Whenever you are ready again, I know it won't take you long, just...do whatever you want with me but keep me from thinking. It will keep me from talking.
[ Maybe they can do that from now on. Fuck each other brains out and not talk, not think, not feel. It seems to work for Geralt just fine, Jaskier can give it a try even if it hurts. This is why he doesn't do anger, why he's incapable of handling this kind of emotions for long, they left him feeling wrung out once it's over, an empty shell. ]
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He isn't liking his body language. Jaskier is loose and comfortable, both in his skin and in their bed, and there is something heavy on him. Those piercing eyes he wanted to avoid are looking right at him, considering. Something is wrong. He should be acting smug and high on himself for getting to fuck the White Wolf. He should be teasing and making Geralt want to growl at him. His body feels great; relaxed, warm, well-used. But his partner does not seem as satisfied; in heart, if not in body.
Emotions are exhausting. Emotions of other people are particularly exhausting. Geralt's irritated at first; why does he have to ruin this? It was good. He gave himself over to Jaskier, let him take something he rarely does, willingly and eagerly. This is the problem with getting involved with humans with their squishy flesh and squishy hearts. Geralt is not healthy or knowledgeable enough to handle this well or know what to say and do. But he does know that Jaskier is upset and unhappy and he has to deal with that. This is all logic, but his heart also hurts in his chest, not that he'd like to admit that. It makes something whirl in his stomach, seeing unhappiness from Jaskier.]
I am not having sex with you unless you enthusiastically wants it. [And it is clear from his tone he is not enthusiastic about much at the moment. Geralt frowns and then puts an arm around Jaskier, tugging him close. He taps a finger on Jaskier's chin and lifts it, leaning in for a slow and searching kiss. His touch is gentle, his embrace tender. He wants his obnoxiously charming bard back. He doesn't understand why he's upset. He said he didn't sleep with Yennefer. Wasn't that the problem? He's confused enough that he has to ask.]
Why are you upset? I haven't let anyone fuck me in a long time, I thought you'd be pleased. [He hates that he's actually requesting to talk about something when it's easier to ignore it, and to have sex to mask it, as Jaskier offers. But that's what Geralt is comfortable with, not what his bard is, and he has to occasionally compromise. Geralt runs his fingers through Jaskier's hair, cupping his cheek.]
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It's stupid and it's his own fault for letting feelings getting mixed into this, for not being able to keep his jealousy in check when it comes to the Witch and the Witcher. And now he's made Geralt upset, which in turn only makes him feel more guilty and miserable. ]
I suppose I deserve that. I'm sorry. [ Jaskier concedes. Sex requires a willing partner or it's an ugly thing. He hasn't meant to offend Geralt with the suggestion, he honestly thought it would be easier that way, but now the bard understands how disrespectful it was. He hangs his head lower in shame, wincing.
He almost expects Geralt to kick him out of the bed, and the careful handling he gets instead is disconcerting in a good way. He gives into it willingly, tremors subsiding lightly once lips are pressing against his own, long lashes brushing his cheeks when he closes his eyes. In Geralt’s arms, he feels safe. He always does.The brunette nuzzles Geralt after they break the kiss and his voice is still a whisper but at least he's answering with honesty. ]
I am pleased. It's been good, amazing. I've never expected you to offer that and I'll never be able to thank you enough. [ Is the truth, he doesn't want Geralt to think it wasn't meaningful to him, that it wasn't the most amazing thing they shared in a long time. ] I even promise not to put it into any songs. [ His arm rests on Geralt's chest, hand close to the man's heart and fingers drawing lazy patterns on the skin. He thinks Geralt has enjoyed him doing that in the past, that it soothes them both. With a pleased sigh escaping his lips and closing his eyes for a moment, he leans into the touch to his cheek. ]
I am happy to know you didn't sleep with Yennefer. [ He admits, a small smile finally grazing his lips and he dares to look at Geralt. It's sad but it's still a smile. ] I just don't know what to think about it.
[ I want to know why you didn't do it, is what he's not saying but it hangs in the air nonetheless. Now that he has admitted it, Jaskier might as well confess the rest as accept the consequences. ]
I don't like to think of you sleeping with Yennefer or anybody else. I don't want anyone in my bed unless it's you. When I came here with that woman, you were pissed and I couldn't fathom why. I still don't fully understand it, but I'm sorry. It hurt you. All I wanted was to forget about you being with her, I wasn't really thinking clearly and I was angry. Jealous. I'm not very good at handling jealously. And I know, I know, I have no right to that. You are not mine and I am not yours, that's what you said.
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But pulling Jaskier into his embrace seems to have helped and that eases some of his own concern. If Jaskier it, he'd be truly worried. He likes how the bard feels in his arms. Geralt listens to him, slightly paranoid that he's being lied to but he can hear Jaskier's heartbeat.] You don't have to thank me for sex. [It's different when he said it, because Geralt meant specifically how Jaskier allowed him to pick the position when he wanted something else. He frowns and does settle a little when Jaskier's fingers move over the rough skin of his chest. That's soothing.
Ugh, so they do have to talk about it. Geralt acknowledges he put it out there to be discussed, but it's still uncomfortable. He doesn't like that Jaskier is sad. He listens to the rest of his confession without speaking, calm and impassive as usual (when he's not being angry). This entire conversation and situation are too complex for him, but he is going to try very hard to surpass low expectations. He is aware that they both were jealous and this has gone over to possessiveness which is unwise. He should have stopped this a long time ago. He should have never allowed it to start in the first place.]
I am not happy about this conversation and I would rather it not happen, but ... I see it has to happen. Talking is not what I do. [It's outside of his comfort zone. All of this is. Geralt would rather get some time to think through what he wants to say; it's more difficult on the spot. He keeps his arm around Jaskier and frowns, looking straight in front of him instead of at the bard.] I didn't sleep with Yennefer because I didn't want to hurt you, and I knew that it would. But she reminded me of something important.
[Geralt leans his head on top of Jaskier's, smelling his hair, sweaty and very him, closing his eyes. He can't look at him when he's talking about serious things like this. It's one of the details that will take time to change.] I can't grow old with you, Jaskier. I am not human. This may not seem like a problem to you now, but it will be, eventually. There will come a time when you need a different lifestyle and the things you loved about me and our life together will no longer suit you. This is something all magical beings learn eventually about loving humans and why we try to avoid it.
[He is speaking quietly and honestly, giving nothing away about his own feelings on it. These are simply facts. This is what happens with mortals and the long-lived. It has yet to happen to him directly, until now. He's never loved, well, anyone before. Hardening his heart and keeping it that way is far easier. The other option will only hurt him, and that's secretly what this is all about. Protecting himself from pain, from inevitable heartbreak and loss.]
If I am not yours and you are not mine, it will be easier, when we have to part. [Geralt kisses the top of his head. It's not easy, talking so much, especially about subjects he'd rather smash down. He is doing it for Jaskier, he is trying his very hardest, even if that means expressing tragic aspects that neither of them want to think about.] But until that time comes, I can promise you that I will have no one else but you. If that ... helps.
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I don't have to but I wanted to. I really enjoyed it. [ He understands what Geralt thanked him for, of course, but basic decency like listening to your partner when he's not comfortable shouldn't be thanked. It should just happen. He leans in to put a small kiss to the corner of Geralt's mouth when he sees the frown, then lies down with him, listening to what he has to say. ]
These aren't my favorite kind of conversations either. Too awkward. [ Jaskier admits, a self-deprecating smile on his lips. He might have the need to bring it up it but he's always terrified of what these kinds of chats would bring. It still had seemed like an important and necessary one. Geralt is right, sleeping with the witch would have hurt him badly, no matter how often Jaskier reminded himself that some things were inevitable. But apparently, they weren't. There's a fluttering feeling in his stomach, warm, at the thought of Geralt actually caring about his feelings. ]
And it does seem like a problem to me too. [ Jaskier might be foolish but he's not naive. He's been thinking about the future more often in recent years, It has become more tiring to follow Geralt everywhere on foot now than it was a decade ago.
He knows Witchers don't retire and Geralt would refuse to stop fighting until he exhales his last breath, but perhaps one day they could move to a less dangerous part of the continent, like the coast. These kinds of things, Jaskier keeps to himself. It seems safer. This is the most he's heard Geralt talk in a long while, about his concerns no less, and the Witcher is still trying to sound detached. Jaskier can respect that. ]
Human lives are fleeting, which only gives us more reason to not want to waste time. I thought about what might happen as well, and you want to know what? Bollocks to it. I'm exactly where I want to be and doing what I want to do. For the time being, it needs to be enough to live in the present. You could die on me next week, next day, under the claws of a monster. Don't you think I don't fear that every time you get into a fight? [ It is part of the reason why he insists so much in accompanying him, even when it's dangerous. ] We have the present.
[ Where Geralt manages to keep his voice neutral, Jaskier fails spectacularly. Bards aren't mean to be distant but to communicate, to burst with emotion. It's in his nature even if Jaskier hates how often it leaves him open and vulnerable to the cruelty of others. But Geralt, for all his sharp edges and blunt words, isn't cruel. ]
It helps. [ The voice breaks a little at the end and Jaskier covers it by nuzzling Geralt's under the chin after the kiss to his hair. He feels lighter, like a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders. ] It helps lot.
[ His head dips after that, kissing Geralt's neck, the hollow of his collarbone and the center of his chest where the muscles of his abs meet. If Jaskier's lucky, from this angle Geralt won't notice the wetness clinging to his eyelashes, or he will be kind enough not to point it out. The brunette shifts and moves even lower, there are other ways to clean up. His lips glide down Geralt's stomach, teeth nipping at the skin in small bites until the flat of his tongue sweeps over the white stickiness in his lower belly. ]
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Geralt knows if he came back to Jaskier and had to admit he slept with Yen, and he saw the bard's devastated face, it would have hurt him too. It was only a brief few minutes of that in their rough sex, and he felt badly enough he admitted to it. He doesn't like upsetting Jaskier. He used to claim it was because the bard whined and pouted and was very annoying when displeased. And he still is all those things, but he also has a heart worth bruising and Geralt doesn't want to be the person to cut him there. He doesn't add that Yen and he will have a chance in another fifty or sixty years, if they so wish. This is his now, this is who he chose to spend it with. ]
And you could die with me here on the road. You probably will. You will eventually slow down and make it more difficult for me to keep us both alive. [Yen was right about that. He dies younger in your arms. He understands that Jaskier worries for him, but he is still a witcher, he is lethal and difficult to kill. His human is extremely easy to kill.] This is inevitable, Jaskier. There is no end to us that isn't tragic. I wanted to protect you from that.
[That is a key part of his reasoning with all of this. Why he tried to push Jaskier away, why he wanted to make lines for them, why it's been a struggle whenever they get closer. Yes, Geralt is protecting himself, because chances are he will have to live on and mend himself over it. But he is strong and can do it. He will eventually break Jaskier's heart. If he could stop Jaskier from caring about him, he would have spared him that. But it is out of his hands now. There is no going back. They care. He can't talk Jaskier out of it now.
He does notice the wetness and doesn't remark on it. The bard feels a lot, he understands that. It baffles him how one person can have so much emotion in them, but he simply ignores it. Jaskier is allowed to feel whatever he wants. Geralt's breath intakes as his mouth moves down and he sighs, running his fingers through the dark hair. He frowns after a moment and then tugs at Jaskier's hair, trying to get him to look up.]
You didn't say you won't fuck anyone else either. [It is assumed and he doubts Jaskier would be so foolish, but maybe he wants to hear it regardless. The bard is his. He embraces that now, makes it his own. He will break anyone who touches what is his now, although with understanding that them flirting with Jaskier is impossible to stop. He can live with that. Look and don't touch.] I was nice this time.
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Death is always inevitable, it comes to the rich, the poor, the great and the low. So what's the point in worrying about it? Death can't take away what we already had. [ It's a romantic way to view things, a contrast of Geralt's more cynical view of life. But maybe that's why they work. Opposites attract. ]
And that's sweet. [ Geralt trying to protect him, Jaskier means, even if his way of doing so it's debatable. Knowing the reasoning behind his actions, it shines a light on them that makes them more understandable. Jaskier bites his stomach, close to his belly button. ] But don't make that kind of choice on my behalf. Tragic ends make for good songs.
[ The tone is playful, mean to lighten the mood, but there's no denying Geralt has a point. Nothing ever ends well for them. They might still have a small chance at happiness, even if it lasts only a few days, a few years, another decade. And he wants to take it. He was about t suck another hickey on the curve of Geralt's hip when the tug gets his attention. He looks up easily and gives a soft smile to his wolf. He has stopped shaking, at last, and his eyes are big and clear. ]
You can smell it if I've been hanging out with other people, I didn't have to tell you that I wasn't sleeping around. [ The bard figured that Geralt had already caught on it and didn't comment because not talking about important things was their way of addressing important things. They did everything backwards. If Geralt wants to be sure now, wants to hear him, he's happy to give confirmation. ] Rest assured, my current interest in bed partners lies only in a white-haired grumpy Witcher with such a firm ass that I could bounce a coin off it. Maybe I should fix the lyrics of Toss a Coin.
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