[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.
[Boast or tease, yes. And Geralt would squirm and grumble, but be fine with it. He would absolutely be furious if Jaskier boasted to anyone or put it in a song though. He knows Jaskier won't; the man values being in his bed far too much to risk it. Geralt is very serious about his personal life remaining that way. Albeit outside of people who hear them having loud sex in inns, but he still won't comment on it.
Yennefer will be pleased to stick her nails in them the next time they see one another, but she will always help them in the end, albeit with some snipping first. She knew Geralt's care for the bard long before Jaskier knew himself. She saw the desperation in Geralt when his only friend was dying, how he was ready to do anything in exchange for his life. How he hoped his harsh words weren't the only things Jaskier remembered. She knew then that something was between them, but it wouldn't stop her from taking what she wanted from him too. She also will probably enjoy poking at them. It's how she is.
Geralt grunts skeptically because yes, that's a romantic way of viewing the world. And untrue. Geralt wants to argue but he also doesn't; if the bard wants to think in those terms, he can't convince him otherwise. He has tried to warn him and point out how they're doomed, and Jaskier is not scared off. When they get there inevitably, it is going to be very painful and he may change his mind on whether tragedy is worth a song or the rest. Geralt isn't so certain he'll feel the same way then, but he cannot stop.
He knows that Jaskier hasn't been sleeping around, but he still wants to hear it. For all his attempts to stop this, they failed. They belong to one another now, until the end. Geralt bares his teeth at Jaskier in warning about the Toss a Coin joke. And then he reaches down, using his strength to pull Jaskier back up and then rolling them so he's on top. It is much more comfortable for him, and he loves the feel of that soft body underneath him. Jaskier often likes to tease or tempt him with kisses all over his body, and Geralt decides it is his turn. He held himself back from too much affection, but perhaps he wants a taste of it.
He starts at Jaskier's neck, naturally, running his tongue along the marks left behind and then sucking a very nice red one since he hasn't had a chance to mark him yet that night.] Stay. [He commands, glancing up from his place at Jaskier's collar to be certain he heard it. Geralt kisses his way over Jaskier's chest, his heart so loud underneath Geralt's lips, sucking at one of his nipples. His hands move down to encourage Jaskier's legs to spread for him to settle between them easier, his fingers staying at Jaskier's thighs and massaging them with strong fingers. He gives both nipples equal time, flicking his tongue against them when they're at a sharp point.
The purpose of this is to turn the tables, to give Jaskier the type of slow sexual burn that he gives Geralt frequently. After two orgasms he is feeling warm and pleasant, more than willing to get his lust moving again but not yet. He bites his stomach and his mouth travels down, almost going to Jaskier's cock but going past it to lift his foot, massaging it gently and kissing the in-step.] What do you want? [His voice is almost silky.] You let me pick, now you. [Geralt knows what he wants, always. He wants to be inside of Jaskier, hearing him cry out, but the how can be changed.
He moves Jaskier's leg over his very broad shoulder for the moment, pressing his mouth tantalizingly on the inside of Jaskier's thigh and nothing else at the moment.]
[ You can't pull at a wolf's tail too harshly, Jaskier knows that. He's not so bold as to turn into a song what they do in the privacy of their bedroom. Teasing Geralt is just too much fun and too rewarding. Getting the man riled up in all possible ways might be the bard's favorite past time after the kisses and the singing.
As much as Jaskier has grown to loather her essence and the troubles that come with Yennefer, he can't deny that she's a valuable person to keep around. He's only human and time is against him, as Geralt so bluntly put it, Jaskier is not blind to the fact that she isn't flawed in such way. Once he's gone, Geralt and she will still have each other, to anger and pursue one another. The pang of jealousy and relief mixes in his chest, and it's an odd feeling. If Geralt is with her, he won't be alone again. Time has a cruel and wonderful way to show people what really matters.
There's a grunt from Geralt that surprisingly doesn't come followed by another argument about their doomed future but the song joke does earn him a small snarl. Jaskier hides his smile behind his hand. It's still visible in the way his eyes crinkle. He doesn't get to ask Geralt if he can test his theory if he can actually bounce a coin off of his perfect but because Geralt is on him and the bard's nerves finally settle down and disappear for good.
This isn’t familiar ground neither. Geralt being attentive is not new, of course, the man knows sex just as he knows to fight, but this feel different. Sweeter. Like the Witcher is allowing himself to explore something he didn't before. The pillow is comfortable behind Jaskier as strong hands press him down on the bed, and he arches back into the pressure of the heavy body on him and the heat of Geralt's mouth. More of his neck si offered the moment lips touch his skin, tilting his chin back and baring his throat. He doesn't care if Geralt marks him above the collar, where everyone can see, or if he chose a place closer to his shoulders where it's only their personal secret. It's good either way, so good.
Jaskier's response to the command is a small mewl and a nod. He can’t help the moan and the surprised 'Aaah' that escape his mouth as the man assaults his nipples, eyes closed and thighs spreading then tensing until they’re shaking on each side of Geralt's. He's still sensitive after coming and he finds himself shuddering from head to toe, panting a soft string of pleas between 'too much and 'more' and 'please, please don't stop'.
He whimpers when Geralt flicks the swollen bud with his tongue and then sucks it before the lips travel down his stomach. He might not have a Witcher's stamina but the attention is already getting him half-hard and won't take long until he's ready again. When Geralt starts to massage his foot, he all but melts into the sheets, letting out another low, soft and contented hum. The words almost don't register but he's looking at Geralt's face with a smile on his own, so he doesn't miss the lips moving.
'Everything. Anything you want to give me.', is the first thing that comes to mind. The thought is there but Jaskier holds back his tongue. Geralt isn't asking just because. He isn't asking just to heard him say what he thinks Geralt wants to do. It's an honest question and deserves an honest answer. Which, foolishly, makes Jaskier blush. ]
I... [ The mouth lapping and kissing the inside of his thigh isn't helping his brain work. Tiny whimpers are turning into pants and a little squirming and Jaskier's hands grip the sheets, his eyes half-lidded. ] I want you to fuck me as I fucked you. But I want..I want you to open me up first with your fingers. Slowly. [ Jaskier pauses, his breath hitching and adds, ] Please.
[Geralt knows arguing at this point is pointless. Because the only other option is leaving him now. That's the end result of that argument, saying that the risk of the heartbreak is too high and they should stop. And neither of them are going to do that. He used to think he would have the strength to simply run away, hide out in blood and gore for a time, but now the idea of going anywhere without his bard is rejected. They still have time together before the aging becomes a problem. Jaskier is not as lithe as he used to be, but he still has many good years ahead of him first.
Geralt likes when Jaskier does this to him, although as they both know he gets impatient very quickly. As soon as lust starts to sink into him, he gets impossible to deal with. But he is not there yet, warmly but lightly aroused, enjoying watching Jaskier's body start to wake up again. Geralt may mark Jaskier in public areas of his neck less now, knowing his claim is permanent and he doesn't have to scare off any rivals, but it will not stop him from taking a bite out of him to admire later.
It is necessary to take his time too so he doesn't overstimulate him too quickly, but he can see that Jaskier's relaxing and adjusting to his touches again. Geralt's only ever been this tender in bed with Yennefer, who allows him it when they're having a good day for once, but he doesn't mean to compare them frequently. They're very different people, but they bring out this part of Geralt. He feels safe between Jaskier's legs, permission to be more than an average brutish self. His choice is made and he is content with it so far.
Geralt smiles, amused and surprised, that Jaskier blushes like a maiden. It's charming. He likes the request and shows that by sucking a mark right there, on Jaskier's thigh. It won't bruise enough to make him uncomfortable in pants, but he'll feel it just as much as the ones on his neck. In true Geralt form he gives little notice before he manhandles Jaskier, encouraging him onto his hands and knees. He runs a hand down from Jaskier's hair along his spine and the curve of his arse.] I liked what you did to me. [He puts oil on his fingers and fits his body to Jaskier's, pressing a kiss to his neck, letting some of his weight fall on the bard. A hand goes around his middle to keep him close. He slides in one finger to start, slowly opening him exactly as he asked.
Despite very much liking how rough Jaskier was on him, he continues being nice this time, although his teeth are still sharp, his body still scarred and rough in comparison to Jaskier's soft skin. Geralt bites Jaskier's ear, growling softly into it. It is difficult to leash himself when he adds a second finger, crooking them just right within Jaskier to hit that hot spot. He keeps his strokes as slow as possible although sometimes his eagerness goes a little faster, and then he catches himself and slows down. He's trying. Jaskier's sweet ass is right there spread in front of him and his now hard cock wants it.
He encourages Jaskier to partially sit up, his fingers still inside of him, his back still right against his front. This gives him a little more freedom to touch him, playing more with his nipples again. It's difficult to keep it together when he feels Jaskier's body open to him as always, playing the bard the way he does his lute, nosing into his hair and breathing deep. His big hand wraps around Jaskier's cock at the base, not to stop him from orgasming the way he did to Geralt, but so he could stroke him very slowly into full hardness.] You want me in you, don't you? [He rasps, running his thumb at the head of Jaskier's cock while opening him up for a third finger.] Tell me how much.
[ They're both too far into the rabbit hole to find a way out, not like Jaskier wants that. It isn't as if he were planning to fall in love with a Witcher of all people but he had been fascinated by Geralt since the first day they met in Posada. That admiration and fondness have only grown with the years, It's probably not surprising that it turned into honest affection. It will hurt them in the future, that's inevitable. Jaskier warned Geralt that he carried heartbreak with him when they first met, it's only that Jaskier was too young back then to realize it would involve him. The past is behind them and the future feels too far away, the present has all his attention and Geralt's lips all his devotion.
It wouldn't be a request if it were easy, and 'slow' is not something they do often, hence the blushing. Jaskier lets out a small squeak, still more than a little embarrassed when Geralt sucks a wet, red mark into his skin. The cry turns into a drawn-out moan shortly after. Jaskier knows right there that he's going to fiddle with the hickey, press his thumb down on it even when he's fully dressed so he can to feel the sting and remember when Geralt put if there. Or better, bring Geralt's big hands to his thigh so he can stroke the thigh himself.
He doesn't startle and cries out when Geralt moves him and that's only because he had been worrying his lower lip with his teeth to keep himself from making any more noises that will have the Witcher teasing him later. He arches his shoulders up like a cat when Geralt pets him, because that's the word that comes to mind when his big hand runs down Jaskier's spine and squeezes his ass. ]
Good...that was fun. [ He doesn't expect Geralt to get his tongue on him, nor does he requests it. It's a very personal practice and the brunette is happy enough knowing Geralt had enjoyed himself. At the feel of a kiss to his nape, Jaskier tilts his chin to him and lifts one of his hand, reaching up and back to bury his fingers into Geralt's hair and scratch his scalp. He doesn't tug at it sharply but it's still nice. Geralt's hair is softer than it looks like and Jaskier likes to wash it and make sure it's not a tangled mess.
Jaskier is flushed and warm all over, whimpering in delight at the pressure of Geralt's finger sliding into him, slow, slow, as he promised. It is never short of surprising how all the man's brute strength can be put under control, how gentle he can be given the reason and opportunity. After a gasp when the second finger is added, Jaskier starts to grind back against them, small rolls of his hips as little moans fall from his lips. Each press of Geralt’s fingers makes the stretch better, each brush of the rough pad gets him to sigh and hiss at the pleasant burn.
His back arches forward and his thighs spread when Geralt bites him and growls like he owns him, the angle just right to hit the bundle of nerves inside him and make Jaskier choke out a surprised groan. He whines softly if Geralt moves too fast, thighs trembling, and sighs in relief when the Witchers slows down again. It's torture of the best kind, the unhurried pace and the pleasure building up in his belly like molten lava, and that's why he loves it. Jaskier enjoys rough sex, quite a lot at that, but is this kind of thing that really leaves him a wet mess, moaning and begging at Geralt for more, his voice rough with need.
He doesn't need a lot of incentive to obey and move with Geralt, back pressing against a strong chest and feeling both more exposed and protected. He can tilt his head and kiss the curve of Geralt's jawline and neck, not easily, but he can. If he rests his head back on Geralt's shoulder, he's offering the column of his throat to be marked more easily.
With the new position and gravity working for them, Geralt is hitting Jaskier's sweet spot every time, making his cock twitch and leak between his legs. By the time Geralt touches him, he's ready and wanton, his hips jerking up. He bites back a groan when clever fingers twist inside him, another sliding in, and a deep voice fills his ears. ]
Ahh, fuck, I...I do. [ His voice is strained and he doesn't bother repeating it, knowing that any Witcher would be able to hear him heard well and clear.
From all the times the man wants to hear him talking, it has to be now? When his brain is mush and he has trouble stringing two coherent words together? If scratches and bites do it for Geralt, then this is exactly what makes Jaskier horny like a bitch in heat. He does try to say something clever, to answer what his lover wants to hear but it's probably clear just by looking at his face that he's coming up blank. His eyes are half-lidded, his mouth open as he pants, lips wet and pink. His nipples are hard and his stomach is tense, it's also truly a miracle that his thighs aren't constantly shaking. ]
Ghn. Your...cock. In me. [ Jaskier hisses at Geralt teasing the head of his cock. ] Right, the fuck now.
[Geralt will consider experimenting more at a later date. He still isn't ready to look Jaskier in the eyes when he's the one being fucked, so it's going to be a process. He'll be open to all of it eventually, but despite looking the exact same through the decades outside of new scars, he still is an old dog who can apparently learn some new tricks. He looks forward to opening that door more, but he doesn't come to things quickly. It is good to know they have the time now to test some things out, even if time for him is different than time for Jaskier. But they're on the same page now.
It is a real test when Jaskier starts moving back into his fingers since his instinct is to follow that desire and go harder at him just to hear him gasp. But he stays slow and he lets Jaskier instead set the pace in that case, letting him grind back the way he wants to take it in. Geralt enjoys watching him from this angle; the slope of his back and how it arches when he moves, looking down to watch as his fingers move inside of him. It's a pleasant picture to add to the sweet sound of his moans.
Geralt lets out a breathy sigh when Jaskier drops his head back on his shoulder, making it very easy for him mark and lick him. He gets a little aggressive for a moment, removing his hand off Jaskier's cock to encourage Jaskier's legs to spread even more, so that he's practically spread eagle and freshly open to Geralt's movement. He is impressed with how bendy Jaskier is, and eventually that won't be the truth, so all the more reason to truly enjoy it now. His hand goes right back to his cock to squeeze at the base and stroke him to the tip.
Having him like this makes it extremely easy for Geralt to tip him forward very suddenly, so that his spread knees keep open and Geralt can force him down with his weight. He doesn't get him to touch the headboard, no, he plans on fucking him right into this mattress until he's helpless with it. Geralt hurriedly puts oil on his own cock and more on his hand for Jaskier's cock, and then he lines up and thrusts in.] Fuck. [Every time he is enveloped by Jaskier's heat and tightness he can't believe it.
Geralt moves his thighs so they're under Jaskier's, encouraging his ass up higher and keeping his knees spread like that, and also taking some of the pressure off him to hold himself. Instead he can just let the witcher work inside of him, leaning back onto his thick thighs when he needs to. One hand firmly puts Jaskier's head into the pillow and he takes his hand off his cock for now, wrapping his arm around Jaskier's middle to hold him in place. And so he can really get Jaskier going before allowing him to come later. He's purposely kept him higher like that so every thrust forward hits him in the prostate, jerking Jaskier forward with every hard and deep rock of his hips.
With his fingers tight in Jaskier's hair holding him down, he can't mark him, so instead Geralt keeps enjoying the view. The sweat dripping down his back, the flush in their skin as their bodies burn up together, looking straight down to witness his cock disappearing into Jaskier's pretty arse.] Gods you look good taking me. [It's rumbled so low it's barely resembling words, but it can be heard over the slap of his hips meeting Jaskier's arse.]
[ Just the fact that Geralt might be considering what to do in the future is a big step, that's how Jaskier would see it if he knew what goes on in that thick head of his. The bard might be ridiculous and have a penchant for the dramatic but he's also very affectionate and very patient. He will be enthusiastic about anything Geralt feels like trying and will show respect of the things he refuses to do, even if he doesn't always understand the reason behind the man's choices. It's been a complicated day but it turned out much better than Jaskier expected and he's happy about where his relationships stands. He can properly call it that now, in his mind: A relationship.
He doesn't mind the aggressiveness, not when it's about Geralt marking him with bites and licks to his neck. They're greeted with a low, pleased hum followed by a gasp when the teeth sink into him. Jaskier blushes a furious shade of red all the way up to his chest when Geralt gets him to spread his legs like that, even though it's not the first time they do this kind of thing. He's been bent into all sorts of pleasant positions under Geralt, not so many whiles on top of him, and it's mostly the novelty what gets to him. He’s not even really aware of the fact that they're moving, because Geralt's traitorous hand is his cock and it's not fair to ask a man to think properly when that is happening, until his cheek is hitting the mattress.
It's confusing for a second until it's not, he finds that can't bring his legs together because Geralt's thighs are in the middle of them, and the Witcher is finally breaching him and oh, heavens, yes. Jaskier makes a noise in his throat, kind of like a cross between Geralt's name and a cry of gratitude to whatever Gods might actually exist. Moans and sobs follow and his hands grab at the sheets, his knuckles white. He wants to scream his pleasure to the four winds and is holding back until a skilled thrust hits his sweet spot just right and makes his eyes roll back into this head. ]
Geralt. [ He chokes out, and if it wasn't already high, Geralt now could sure smell the spike of arousal in him. ] GERALT!
[ Jaskier's brain shuts down after that because the Witcher is grabbing a handful of his hair, the tight grip just the right side of painful as he's diving in, and he keens and pleas at him for more. The brunette thrusts back into the man’s cock as much as he can, hard and needy, lifting his ass at Geralt's prompting. It should be an uncomfortable position but is not, not at all. Not with Geralt holding some of his weight as he fucks into him like an animal. And that, too, should be shameful, the idea of it, instead of turning Jaskier on as much as it does.
There are words, Geralt is praising him, which feels amazing too, but Jaskier is busy biting his bottom lip and concentrating on not coming all at once. His answer, when he manages one, is clenching his muscles around Geralt's hardness when he thrusts in. Every push of his cock drags slowly over his prostate, lighting him up, making his blood boil and building heat in his lower belly in a cresting wave. ]
F... [ Jaskier bucks, his body shaking. He can’t take much more, normal humans aren’t meant to take the brunt of a Witcher's strength and yet he needs it. He wants Geralt so ruthlessly deep into him that it gets under his skin, burrows in his heart, where he belongs. ] Faster.
[Some things are not changeable about the witcher. He will try new things. He will occasionally attempt to be gentle and kind. But a big talker he is not. Geralt prefers speaking only when absolutely necessary, and the only reason he spoke so much just a few minutes before was since he considered it necessary. So he is capable of it, when it matters, and will continue to do it when it matters. But most of the time? He prefers his quiet. Jaskier can talk enough for both of them. For every one sentence Geralt snarls in bed, the bard has spoken much more filth, and it is perfect that way. He would refuse to use the word 'relationship' himself, albeit knowing that's what it is. He'll just hmmmm non-committally at it.
Geralt almost laughs at the blushing, with everything they're doing, how can he blush, but the laugh turns into a huff instead, and he kisses the back of Jaskier's neck affectionately. He thinks it's charming and he also understands, because he was flustered when he let Jaskier fuck him. He didn't blush, he was a little nervous. Moving Jaskier around like this really requires intense trust. Jaskier has to know that wherever Geralt is moving him, fast and without warning, will be somewhere he wants and pleasant. He is putting his body in the hands of someone powerful and violent, and trusting him to touch him with only pleasure. Which he tries to.
It is complete ecstasy being inside of Jaskier and having a partner this hot to play off of, but it's all heightened by the sounds. Gods, he can hear these cries in his dreams, and will probably wake up hard because of them. It's immensely sexual and gorgeous, and Geralt could come a dozen times if those cries kept calling to him. Jaskier's the perfect lover. HIs enthusiasm is like none other. Geralt could ride him for hours and never get tired of it. He's thankful that Jaskier finds the elements of his sexual appetite attractive that others aren't always keen on. His teeth, his passion, his strength, his animalistic impulse, and the sheer force of him.
He will deal with the naysayers and whatever they worry about with the noise complaint tomorrow. For now he is fully involved in getting Jaskier to scream himself hoarse. Even if Geralt wanted to hold back there's no way with all of Jaskier's begging and desperate rocks back against him, so he lets loose. Still not hard enough to truly hurt his lover, there is a line he is always careful of, but right up to that limit.
He keeps Jaskier's face in the sheets and uses his weight to pin Jaskier entirely, holding him in place so all he can do is take it now. Geralt can feel Jaskier shaking and nearing the end and the only way to give them what they both need is to make it as fast as he begs. He bends his head down to bite his teeth deep into Jaskier's neck as he likes to do when he's nearing his peak, his upper half holding Jaskier down while his hips keep snapping harder and faster into him. The bed creaks with their movement but does not bang at least, since Geralt is keeping it contained to the two of them.
His arm holding Jaskier moves so he can touch his straining cock again, using precum and the oil from before to make it fast and rough in his strokes. He jerks him in time with his thrusts, aiming straight for his prostate to torment him into coming. Geralt growls into Jaskier's neck, teeth bruising the skin, and goes deep into Jaskier. He is trying not to push him too hard into the mattress so he can still breathe but he pins him harshly as he jerks forward and comes. He snarls like a wild beast, closing his eyes tightly, moving into him like he can't think long enough to stop.]
[ He's fine with Geralt only being talkative when it matters, over the years he's learned to read the man's body language better. It's not perfect but it tells him enough sometimes. The teeth in his nape he liked very much, it's a shame those didn't last. Jaskier has to remember to ask Geralt to bite him more there. Among a whole lot of other places.
He can almost feel it, the shift in the atmosphere when Geralt finally let go. Jaskier is squirming one last time in delight at the heavy body on him, the thick weight inside of him feels so fucking delicious, but he's soon enough pinned down for good. Powerful hands are gripping into his hair, shoving his face down, hard how he likes it, and he sees stars. It's a little harder to breathe and he can't move even if he wants to, not like Jaskier does. He's nearly folded in half in his need to push his ass higher, giving himself over willingly, offering all of him through his moans and his body.
He's being split open in all possible ways, owned. The near-constant pressure against his prostate every time Geralt slams into him as hard as he can is making him shout in surprise. His cock is leaking all over the sheets under him, aching in pleasure from each strike. No matter how divine it has been to be inside of Geralt, how much it meant to him, Jaskier can't deny that he craves this more. He prefers to be taken by the Witcher, to be held down and told he’s good as his lover's name is being torn from his raw throat.
Hoarse whines of need fill the room and the bard can't tell who they belong anymore. His back is straining, the hands on his skin bruising, and the feeling of Geralt moving in him, grunting and growling is welcomed by his high whines and keens. The Witcher's hand wraps around his cock and he can hear himself screaming a lust-fueled howl, shouting desperately and breathing hard. Blue eyes are blown out with lust, dark and unfocused, and his body stiffens with tension when Geralt presses even harder into him. It's so good it's painful. Nothing he cant take, nothing he doesn't want desperately.
When Geralt comes, it’s a constant hot pulse throbbing inside him and bolts of sensation are zinging along Jaskier's nerve endings. Is the snarling on his ears what does it for him. His walls clench around Geralt, tight as a vise on his cock, and he moans, and moans, and moans at the burn and ache as he comes. His senses are absolutely shot, on fire, alight as things edge over into a sharper sting. Geralt is still moving in brutal, bone-rattling thrusts and he's going to die. He's going to die with Geralt cock in his ass from the over-stimulation, and he can not give even a single fuck. Jaskier doesn't remember ever being so full and well breed in his life.
Thank the Gods he's already on his knees because he can feel his legs going weak and his mind clouding, blissfully high on his orgasm. There's a slickness sliding down his inner thighs that only adds to the sensation of him falling apart. ]
T-that was enthusiastic enough... [ Jaskier murmurs breathlessly, a cross between a laugh and a desperate cry, tired and blissed out. His voice is absurdly rough from all the screaming and there's no way he's going to be able to sing properly come morning. ] I may pass out.
[ Jaskier means it as a compliment but his eyes are a little red rimmed and he chokes on a whimper when Geralt’s hips snapped forward one last time. ]
[Geralt's never had sex with anyone who really takes him this way. It's mostly due to the fact he has sex with strangers and he doesn't want to scare them, and when he's with Yen she's the one in control even when he is on top. Jaskier just lets him loose, lets him take what he needs, and Jaskier also fucking loves it. The way he screams and writhes and moans, it's incredible to be with someone who encourages him that much. Who accepts all that he is and wants him for it too. Geralt's never mistaken sex for love, nor does he now, but he doesn't think it unusual that his emotional connection to Jaskier makes it much better.
He does keep Jaskier's head down especially when he really screams, muffling it part of the way, conscious enough to do that and otherwise he can't think at all. He can only take and take and take until they're both wrung dry. He doesn't realize how far he's really gone until Jaskier speaks and it is an immediate wake up from his haze of lust and aggression. His body is still singing from the third orgasm of the night.
Geralt moves off of him, very gentle as usual in the aftermath. He encourages Jaskier to move onto his back, manhandling him again but with a kind purpose. There may be a slight worry in the way he touches Jaskier's body now, running rough fingers over his limbs to settle him in the bed. He knows the bard says he can take it, but the last thing Geralt ever wants is to hurt someone in bed.
He kisses him sweetly, brushing fingers through his hair.] Lie there, I'll clean up. [Geralt gets cloth for them and true to his word does exactly that. Despite his mild concern, he still is enjoying the image of Jaskier blissed out and lying on the bed, covered in marks from his mouth. Gods he's attractive. Geralt has no water there to give Jaskier but he does have the last bit of ale that he didn't finish, so he brings it over and offers it to Jaskier. He truly loves that rasp in his voice, but he still wants him to swallow through it.
These are the ways that Geralt shows that he cares. Words may not be his strong suit, but actions are.] Sit up, have some of this. [He knows that Jaskier hates his voice being too different, it is his trade after all, so it's the least he can do for now. They sweat a lot in their sex. Geralt folds over the sheets on the side of the bed where they both came, so it is comfortable enough for the night. Only after he does his due diligence does he allow himself on the bed too.
He puts his arm around Jaskier and encourages him to rest his head on him after the ale, like usual.] You would tell me if it's too much. [It's not a question, it's a statement. He doesn't want the bard to cripple himself to please his witcher lover.]
[ Jaskier never had sex with anyone who did this to him before either because it implies a level of trust he can't give anyone else. It would be terrifying and painful to let someone much stronger than him dominate him like that without being able to move. With Geralt it's glorious and Jaskier is glad that they could share something like this, that it made the Witcher happy too.
He breathes a sigh of relief when Geralt shifts him, not because he wasn't having fun but because his lungs truly need the air. Jaskier immediately can tell that the man is worried and he gives his partner a soft, happy smile and reaches out to cup his cheek. He's fine, wonderful, just tired and still shaking from the aftershocks of a fantastic orgasm.
Jaskier is loose-limbed and soft in his afterglow, his body still drowning on endorphins to feel any of the pain from the bruises or in his muscles. He tries to nuzzle and kiss Geralt before he moves away but the Witcher is too quick. He always is, even when Jaskier's limbs don't feel like jelly. Alcohol might not be the best option to keep hydrated but he feels parched, throat raw, and welcomes the offered ale with a grateful smile. ]
Thank you. [ Jaskier mumbles, his eyelids feeling heavy. His hair is in disarray and he has the air of a man who's been thoroughly well fucked. It's not a bad look on him. He also seems to be admiring the marks and scratches he left on Geralt's body as he takes a sip of the drink. He hums pleasantly at the view, his eyes meeting Geralt's so the man can see the pleased look in them. His back rests against a pillow, watching Geralt as the man tries his best to fix the bed covers into something comfortable to sleep in. Jaskier feels his chest swell with affection. 'Witcher don't have emotions', his perky ass. ]
You don't have to do that immediately every time we..ah... I do appreciate it. Lots. But I like your scent on me.
[ Geralt pampering him when he can barely move is one of Jaskier's favorite things. But he's not disgusted by the stickiness or the feeling of Geralt's spend inside him, that's what he means in the end. With the empty cup now left aside and forgotten, The bard curls around Geralt's body, they're different frames fitting well into each other like puzzle pieces. ]
I would and it wasn't.
[ Jaskier's dignity and his ability to walk died a good death, good riddance to them. With all the strength Jaskier can must at the moment, which isn't much, he holds himself up by the elbows and leans it to place a feathery kiss on Geralt's closed eyelids, then moves further to peck at his mouth. ]
[Alcohol isn't the best option to be hydrated, but he isn't going to go get them water, since he will immediately have to hear about how their obnoxiously loud sex is unappreciated by the guests. He also would have to put clothes on which is not going to happen. He is feeling too good and loose for that. Since Geralt gets up very early, he will probably slip out of bed while Jaskier sleeps it off and make a deal with the innkeeper. And bring up some food and water for the bard.
If he's sneaky enough he might go kill the monster while Jaskier's still sleeping. The sex will energize him and the clarification of their situation gives some measure of temporary peace. He'll feel like a fight and good kill when he gets up. He'll decide in the morning depending on how early he's unable to stay in bed. He doesn't want his bard to pout at him if he's gone when he wakes. But if he finishes the kill and makes the townsfolk content enough, he can come right back to bed and wake Jaskier up a delicious way. A problem for the morning.
Jaskier really does look fantastic when he's thoroughly fucked like this. He makes a very pretty figure. Geralt likes the feel of his eyes on him too; his body has always been something to fight and kill with. Jaskier's open admiration and attraction to it feels good. He doesn't have to flex to look more impressive; his muscles have muscles. He practically is always flexing. He's big and broad and he's all Jaskier's. He hmmms in reply to that and smirks, golden eyes warm.]
You stink of me even after several washings. My scent isn't leaving because of a cloth. [Geralt would know. Anyone with a nose like him could tell who Jaskier belongs to from a town over. He isn't disgusted by fluids of any kind, but it is a symbolic effort. It does make him feel a little better, being able to communicate through action. He likes to be reminded he's a man not a beast, which the latter can be more of a problem the longer he's apart from society and hostile toward it. Jaskier's solved that problem since the day they met.
He makes a snarling sound that's actually more of a content rumble, tilting his head up for the little kisses while his eyes stay shut. He is so very soft when it comes to the bard; it's important no one else ever knows. Except for Yennefer. She'll torment him enough over it. Geralt's eyes open after the peck to his mouth and he leans into it, kissing him a little deeper. He is definitely feeling well fucked and drowsy at the moment, which is rare and nice, and he tugs gently at the bard's arm so he'll stop being on his elbows and rest on Geralt instead.]
I am holding back. [He mumbles.] I could fuck you to death if I didn't hold back. [Geralt smirks and strokes his hair.] Take fucking note of that next time you're being a tease.
[ Jaskier wouldn't have let him leave the room anyway, water and angry innkeepers could wait until tomorrow. It was much better to stay in bed, basking in the afterglow of a good fuck and enjoying the warmth of each other bodies. The bed isn't completely broken either, truly a miracle under the circumstances.
The bad had planned to be the one tiring out Geralt but it comes as no surprise that things ended the other way around. It's late and he's exhausted int eh best of ways, he's probably going to sleep in like a rock, cocooned in the mess of blankets that smells like them until someone comes to disturb his peace. If he does wake up to an empty bed, he won't pout at Geralt...much. But he would, the Witcher is right on that assumption. That's a worry for tomorrow.
He replies to that hum with a pleased sound of his own, seeing Geralt relaxed, and loops an arm around his waist. Jaskier should probably feel grossed out about the whole scent thing, if they ever meet other Witchers this would be fun to explain, but instead, he just huffs out a laugh. The rumble he gets out of Geralt after the kisses make him smile so much his cheeks hurt.
Like a real wolf sometimes, Jaskier thinks, as they kiss. Lowering himself at Geralt's request, his cheek rest on the man's broad chest. Geralt makes a surprisingly comfy pillow and Jaskier feels safe there, he tells him as such out loud before he realizes the words have left his mouth. ]
Okay, point taken. But you're still very hot when you let go a bit. [ Just for that scolding, Jaskier pouts and lightly flick Geralt's right nipple with his finger. ] I will try to keep it in mind but I make no promises.
[ He snuggles even closer against the Witcher like he wants to burrow into him. He lets out a final long sigh at the fingers in his hair before closing his eyes. ]
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
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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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Yennefer will be pleased to stick her nails in them the next time they see one another, but she will always help them in the end, albeit with some snipping first. She knew Geralt's care for the bard long before Jaskier knew himself. She saw the desperation in Geralt when his only friend was dying, how he was ready to do anything in exchange for his life. How he hoped his harsh words weren't the only things Jaskier remembered. She knew then that something was between them, but it wouldn't stop her from taking what she wanted from him too. She also will probably enjoy poking at them. It's how she is.
Geralt grunts skeptically because yes, that's a romantic way of viewing the world. And untrue. Geralt wants to argue but he also doesn't; if the bard wants to think in those terms, he can't convince him otherwise. He has tried to warn him and point out how they're doomed, and Jaskier is not scared off. When they get there inevitably, it is going to be very painful and he may change his mind on whether tragedy is worth a song or the rest. Geralt isn't so certain he'll feel the same way then, but he cannot stop.
He knows that Jaskier hasn't been sleeping around, but he still wants to hear it. For all his attempts to stop this, they failed. They belong to one another now, until the end. Geralt bares his teeth at Jaskier in warning about the Toss a Coin joke. And then he reaches down, using his strength to pull Jaskier back up and then rolling them so he's on top. It is much more comfortable for him, and he loves the feel of that soft body underneath him. Jaskier often likes to tease or tempt him with kisses all over his body, and Geralt decides it is his turn. He held himself back from too much affection, but perhaps he wants a taste of it.
He starts at Jaskier's neck, naturally, running his tongue along the marks left behind and then sucking a very nice red one since he hasn't had a chance to mark him yet that night.] Stay. [He commands, glancing up from his place at Jaskier's collar to be certain he heard it. Geralt kisses his way over Jaskier's chest, his heart so loud underneath Geralt's lips, sucking at one of his nipples. His hands move down to encourage Jaskier's legs to spread for him to settle between them easier, his fingers staying at Jaskier's thighs and massaging them with strong fingers. He gives both nipples equal time, flicking his tongue against them when they're at a sharp point.
The purpose of this is to turn the tables, to give Jaskier the type of slow sexual burn that he gives Geralt frequently. After two orgasms he is feeling warm and pleasant, more than willing to get his lust moving again but not yet. He bites his stomach and his mouth travels down, almost going to Jaskier's cock but going past it to lift his foot, massaging it gently and kissing the in-step.] What do you want? [His voice is almost silky.] You let me pick, now you. [Geralt knows what he wants, always. He wants to be inside of Jaskier, hearing him cry out, but the how can be changed.
He moves Jaskier's leg over his very broad shoulder for the moment, pressing his mouth tantalizingly on the inside of Jaskier's thigh and nothing else at the moment.]
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As much as Jaskier has grown to loather her essence and the troubles that come with Yennefer, he can't deny that she's a valuable person to keep around. He's only human and time is against him, as Geralt so bluntly put it, Jaskier is not blind to the fact that she isn't flawed in such way. Once he's gone, Geralt and she will still have each other, to anger and pursue one another. The pang of jealousy and relief mixes in his chest, and it's an odd feeling. If Geralt is with her, he won't be alone again. Time has a cruel and wonderful way to show people what really matters.
There's a grunt from Geralt that surprisingly doesn't come followed by another argument about their doomed future but the song joke does earn him a small snarl. Jaskier hides his smile behind his hand. It's still visible in the way his eyes crinkle. He doesn't get to ask Geralt if he can test his theory if he can actually bounce a coin off of his perfect but because Geralt is on him and the bard's nerves finally settle down and disappear for good.
This isn’t familiar ground neither. Geralt being attentive is not new, of course, the man knows sex just as he knows to fight, but this feel different. Sweeter. Like the Witcher is allowing himself to explore something he didn't before. The pillow is comfortable behind Jaskier as strong hands press him down on the bed, and he arches back into the pressure of the heavy body on him and the heat of Geralt's mouth. More of his neck si offered the moment lips touch his skin, tilting his chin back and baring his throat. He doesn't care if Geralt marks him above the collar, where everyone can see, or if he chose a place closer to his shoulders where it's only their personal secret. It's good either way, so good.
Jaskier's response to the command is a small mewl and a nod. He can’t help the moan and the surprised 'Aaah' that escape his mouth as the man assaults his nipples, eyes closed and thighs spreading then tensing until they’re shaking on each side of Geralt's. He's still sensitive after coming and he finds himself shuddering from head to toe, panting a soft string of pleas between 'too much and 'more' and 'please, please don't stop'.
He whimpers when Geralt flicks the swollen bud with his tongue and then sucks it before the lips travel down his stomach. He might not have a Witcher's stamina but the attention is already getting him half-hard and won't take long until he's ready again. When Geralt starts to massage his foot, he all but melts into the sheets, letting out another low, soft and contented hum. The words almost don't register but he's looking at Geralt's face with a smile on his own, so he doesn't miss the lips moving.
'Everything. Anything you want to give me.', is the first thing that comes to mind. The thought is there but Jaskier holds back his tongue. Geralt isn't asking just because. He isn't asking just to heard him say what he thinks Geralt wants to do. It's an honest question and deserves an honest answer. Which, foolishly, makes Jaskier blush. ]
I... [ The mouth lapping and kissing the inside of his thigh isn't helping his brain work. Tiny whimpers are turning into pants and a little squirming and Jaskier's hands grip the sheets, his eyes half-lidded. ] I want you to fuck me as I fucked you. But I want..I want you to open me up first with your fingers. Slowly. [ Jaskier pauses, his breath hitching and adds, ] Please.
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Geralt likes when Jaskier does this to him, although as they both know he gets impatient very quickly. As soon as lust starts to sink into him, he gets impossible to deal with. But he is not there yet, warmly but lightly aroused, enjoying watching Jaskier's body start to wake up again. Geralt may mark Jaskier in public areas of his neck less now, knowing his claim is permanent and he doesn't have to scare off any rivals, but it will not stop him from taking a bite out of him to admire later.
It is necessary to take his time too so he doesn't overstimulate him too quickly, but he can see that Jaskier's relaxing and adjusting to his touches again. Geralt's only ever been this tender in bed with Yennefer, who allows him it when they're having a good day for once, but he doesn't mean to compare them frequently. They're very different people, but they bring out this part of Geralt. He feels safe between Jaskier's legs, permission to be more than an average brutish self. His choice is made and he is content with it so far.
Geralt smiles, amused and surprised, that Jaskier blushes like a maiden. It's charming. He likes the request and shows that by sucking a mark right there, on Jaskier's thigh. It won't bruise enough to make him uncomfortable in pants, but he'll feel it just as much as the ones on his neck. In true Geralt form he gives little notice before he manhandles Jaskier, encouraging him onto his hands and knees. He runs a hand down from Jaskier's hair along his spine and the curve of his arse.] I liked what you did to me. [He puts oil on his fingers and fits his body to Jaskier's, pressing a kiss to his neck, letting some of his weight fall on the bard. A hand goes around his middle to keep him close. He slides in one finger to start, slowly opening him exactly as he asked.
Despite very much liking how rough Jaskier was on him, he continues being nice this time, although his teeth are still sharp, his body still scarred and rough in comparison to Jaskier's soft skin. Geralt bites Jaskier's ear, growling softly into it. It is difficult to leash himself when he adds a second finger, crooking them just right within Jaskier to hit that hot spot. He keeps his strokes as slow as possible although sometimes his eagerness goes a little faster, and then he catches himself and slows down. He's trying. Jaskier's sweet ass is right there spread in front of him and his now hard cock wants it.
He encourages Jaskier to partially sit up, his fingers still inside of him, his back still right against his front. This gives him a little more freedom to touch him, playing more with his nipples again. It's difficult to keep it together when he feels Jaskier's body open to him as always, playing the bard the way he does his lute, nosing into his hair and breathing deep. His big hand wraps around Jaskier's cock at the base, not to stop him from orgasming the way he did to Geralt, but so he could stroke him very slowly into full hardness.] You want me in you, don't you? [He rasps, running his thumb at the head of Jaskier's cock while opening him up for a third finger.] Tell me how much.
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It wouldn't be a request if it were easy, and 'slow' is not something they do often, hence the blushing. Jaskier lets out a small squeak, still more than a little embarrassed when Geralt sucks a wet, red mark into his skin. The cry turns into a drawn-out moan shortly after. Jaskier knows right there that he's going to fiddle with the hickey, press his thumb down on it even when he's fully dressed so he can to feel the sting and remember when Geralt put if there. Or better, bring Geralt's big hands to his thigh so he can stroke the thigh himself.
He doesn't startle and cries out when Geralt moves him and that's only because he had been worrying his lower lip with his teeth to keep himself from making any more noises that will have the Witcher teasing him later. He arches his shoulders up like a cat when Geralt pets him, because that's the word that comes to mind when his big hand runs down Jaskier's spine and squeezes his ass. ]
Good...that was fun. [ He doesn't expect Geralt to get his tongue on him, nor does he requests it. It's a very personal practice and the brunette is happy enough knowing Geralt had enjoyed himself. At the feel of a kiss to his nape, Jaskier tilts his chin to him and lifts one of his hand, reaching up and back to bury his fingers into Geralt's hair and scratch his scalp. He doesn't tug at it sharply but it's still nice. Geralt's hair is softer than it looks like and Jaskier likes to wash it and make sure it's not a tangled mess.
Jaskier is flushed and warm all over, whimpering in delight at the pressure of Geralt's finger sliding into him, slow, slow, as he promised. It is never short of surprising how all the man's brute strength can be put under control, how gentle he can be given the reason and opportunity. After a gasp when the second finger is added, Jaskier starts to grind back against them, small rolls of his hips as little moans fall from his lips. Each press of Geralt’s fingers makes the stretch better, each brush of the rough pad gets him to sigh and hiss at the pleasant burn.
His back arches forward and his thighs spread when Geralt bites him and growls like he owns him, the angle just right to hit the bundle of nerves inside him and make Jaskier choke out a surprised groan. He whines softly if Geralt moves too fast, thighs trembling, and sighs in relief when the Witchers slows down again. It's torture of the best kind, the unhurried pace and the pleasure building up in his belly like molten lava, and that's why he loves it. Jaskier enjoys rough sex, quite a lot at that, but is this kind of thing that really leaves him a wet mess, moaning and begging at Geralt for more, his voice rough with need.
He doesn't need a lot of incentive to obey and move with Geralt, back pressing against a strong chest and feeling both more exposed and protected. He can tilt his head and kiss the curve of Geralt's jawline and neck, not easily, but he can. If he rests his head back on Geralt's shoulder, he's offering the column of his throat to be marked more easily.
With the new position and gravity working for them, Geralt is hitting Jaskier's sweet spot every time, making his cock twitch and leak between his legs. By the time Geralt touches him, he's ready and wanton, his hips jerking up. He bites back a groan when clever fingers twist inside him, another sliding in, and a deep voice fills his ears. ]
Ahh, fuck, I...I do. [ His voice is strained and he doesn't bother repeating it, knowing that any Witcher would be able to hear him heard well and clear.
From all the times the man wants to hear him talking, it has to be now? When his brain is mush and he has trouble stringing two coherent words together? If scratches and bites do it for Geralt, then this is exactly what makes Jaskier horny like a bitch in heat. He does try to say something clever, to answer what his lover wants to hear but it's probably clear just by looking at his face that he's coming up blank. His eyes are half-lidded, his mouth open as he pants, lips wet and pink. His nipples are hard and his stomach is tense, it's also truly a miracle that his thighs aren't constantly shaking. ]
Ghn. Your...cock. In me. [ Jaskier hisses at Geralt teasing the head of his cock. ] Right, the fuck now.
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It is a real test when Jaskier starts moving back into his fingers since his instinct is to follow that desire and go harder at him just to hear him gasp. But he stays slow and he lets Jaskier instead set the pace in that case, letting him grind back the way he wants to take it in. Geralt enjoys watching him from this angle; the slope of his back and how it arches when he moves, looking down to watch as his fingers move inside of him. It's a pleasant picture to add to the sweet sound of his moans.
Geralt lets out a breathy sigh when Jaskier drops his head back on his shoulder, making it very easy for him mark and lick him. He gets a little aggressive for a moment, removing his hand off Jaskier's cock to encourage Jaskier's legs to spread even more, so that he's practically spread eagle and freshly open to Geralt's movement. He is impressed with how bendy Jaskier is, and eventually that won't be the truth, so all the more reason to truly enjoy it now. His hand goes right back to his cock to squeeze at the base and stroke him to the tip.
Having him like this makes it extremely easy for Geralt to tip him forward very suddenly, so that his spread knees keep open and Geralt can force him down with his weight. He doesn't get him to touch the headboard, no, he plans on fucking him right into this mattress until he's helpless with it. Geralt hurriedly puts oil on his own cock and more on his hand for Jaskier's cock, and then he lines up and thrusts in.] Fuck. [Every time he is enveloped by Jaskier's heat and tightness he can't believe it.
Geralt moves his thighs so they're under Jaskier's, encouraging his ass up higher and keeping his knees spread like that, and also taking some of the pressure off him to hold himself. Instead he can just let the witcher work inside of him, leaning back onto his thick thighs when he needs to. One hand firmly puts Jaskier's head into the pillow and he takes his hand off his cock for now, wrapping his arm around Jaskier's middle to hold him in place. And so he can really get Jaskier going before allowing him to come later. He's purposely kept him higher like that so every thrust forward hits him in the prostate, jerking Jaskier forward with every hard and deep rock of his hips.
With his fingers tight in Jaskier's hair holding him down, he can't mark him, so instead Geralt keeps enjoying the view. The sweat dripping down his back, the flush in their skin as their bodies burn up together, looking straight down to witness his cock disappearing into Jaskier's pretty arse.] Gods you look good taking me. [It's rumbled so low it's barely resembling words, but it can be heard over the slap of his hips meeting Jaskier's arse.]
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He doesn't mind the aggressiveness, not when it's about Geralt marking him with bites and licks to his neck. They're greeted with a low, pleased hum followed by a gasp when the teeth sink into him. Jaskier blushes a furious shade of red all the way up to his chest when Geralt gets him to spread his legs like that, even though it's not the first time they do this kind of thing. He's been bent into all sorts of pleasant positions under Geralt, not so many whiles on top of him, and it's mostly the novelty what gets to him. He’s not even really aware of the fact that they're moving, because Geralt's traitorous hand is his cock and it's not fair to ask a man to think properly when that is happening, until his cheek is hitting the mattress.
It's confusing for a second until it's not, he finds that can't bring his legs together because Geralt's thighs are in the middle of them, and the Witcher is finally breaching him and oh, heavens, yes. Jaskier makes a noise in his throat, kind of like a cross between Geralt's name and a cry of gratitude to whatever Gods might actually exist. Moans and sobs follow and his hands grab at the sheets, his knuckles white. He wants to scream his pleasure to the four winds and is holding back until a skilled thrust hits his sweet spot just right and makes his eyes roll back into this head. ]
Geralt. [ He chokes out, and if it wasn't already high, Geralt now could sure smell the spike of arousal in him. ] GERALT!
[ Jaskier's brain shuts down after that because the Witcher is grabbing a handful of his hair, the tight grip just the right side of painful as he's diving in, and he keens and pleas at him for more. The brunette thrusts back into the man’s cock as much as he can, hard and needy, lifting his ass at Geralt's prompting. It should be an uncomfortable position but is not, not at all. Not with Geralt holding some of his weight as he fucks into him like an animal. And that, too, should be shameful, the idea of it, instead of turning Jaskier on as much as it does.
There are words, Geralt is praising him, which feels amazing too, but Jaskier is busy biting his bottom lip and concentrating on not coming all at once. His answer, when he manages one, is clenching his muscles around Geralt's hardness when he thrusts in. Every push of his cock drags slowly over his prostate, lighting him up, making his blood boil and building heat in his lower belly in a cresting wave. ]
F... [ Jaskier bucks, his body shaking. He can’t take much more, normal humans aren’t meant to take the brunt of a Witcher's strength and yet he needs it. He wants Geralt so ruthlessly deep into him that it gets under his skin, burrows in his heart, where he belongs. ] Faster.
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Geralt almost laughs at the blushing, with everything they're doing, how can he blush, but the laugh turns into a huff instead, and he kisses the back of Jaskier's neck affectionately. He thinks it's charming and he also understands, because he was flustered when he let Jaskier fuck him. He didn't blush, he was a little nervous. Moving Jaskier around like this really requires intense trust. Jaskier has to know that wherever Geralt is moving him, fast and without warning, will be somewhere he wants and pleasant. He is putting his body in the hands of someone powerful and violent, and trusting him to touch him with only pleasure. Which he tries to.
It is complete ecstasy being inside of Jaskier and having a partner this hot to play off of, but it's all heightened by the sounds. Gods, he can hear these cries in his dreams, and will probably wake up hard because of them. It's immensely sexual and gorgeous, and Geralt could come a dozen times if those cries kept calling to him. Jaskier's the perfect lover. HIs enthusiasm is like none other. Geralt could ride him for hours and never get tired of it. He's thankful that Jaskier finds the elements of his sexual appetite attractive that others aren't always keen on. His teeth, his passion, his strength, his animalistic impulse, and the sheer force of him.
He will deal with the naysayers and whatever they worry about with the noise complaint tomorrow. For now he is fully involved in getting Jaskier to scream himself hoarse. Even if Geralt wanted to hold back there's no way with all of Jaskier's begging and desperate rocks back against him, so he lets loose. Still not hard enough to truly hurt his lover, there is a line he is always careful of, but right up to that limit.
He keeps Jaskier's face in the sheets and uses his weight to pin Jaskier entirely, holding him in place so all he can do is take it now. Geralt can feel Jaskier shaking and nearing the end and the only way to give them what they both need is to make it as fast as he begs. He bends his head down to bite his teeth deep into Jaskier's neck as he likes to do when he's nearing his peak, his upper half holding Jaskier down while his hips keep snapping harder and faster into him. The bed creaks with their movement but does not bang at least, since Geralt is keeping it contained to the two of them.
His arm holding Jaskier moves so he can touch his straining cock again, using precum and the oil from before to make it fast and rough in his strokes. He jerks him in time with his thrusts, aiming straight for his prostate to torment him into coming. Geralt growls into Jaskier's neck, teeth bruising the skin, and goes deep into Jaskier. He is trying not to push him too hard into the mattress so he can still breathe but he pins him harshly as he jerks forward and comes. He snarls like a wild beast, closing his eyes tightly, moving into him like he can't think long enough to stop.]
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He can almost feel it, the shift in the atmosphere when Geralt finally let go. Jaskier is squirming one last time in delight at the heavy body on him, the thick weight inside of him feels so fucking delicious, but he's soon enough pinned down for good. Powerful hands are gripping into his hair, shoving his face down, hard how he likes it, and he sees stars. It's a little harder to breathe and he can't move even if he wants to, not like Jaskier does. He's nearly folded in half in his need to push his ass higher, giving himself over willingly, offering all of him through his moans and his body.
He's being split open in all possible ways, owned. The near-constant pressure against his prostate every time Geralt slams into him as hard as he can is making him shout in surprise. His cock is leaking all over the sheets under him, aching in pleasure from each strike. No matter how divine it has been to be inside of Geralt, how much it meant to him, Jaskier can't deny that he craves this more. He prefers to be taken by the Witcher, to be held down and told he’s good as his lover's name is being torn from his raw throat.
Hoarse whines of need fill the room and the bard can't tell who they belong anymore. His back is straining, the hands on his skin bruising, and the feeling of Geralt moving in him, grunting and growling is welcomed by his high whines and keens. The Witcher's hand wraps around his cock and he can hear himself screaming a lust-fueled howl, shouting desperately and breathing hard. Blue eyes are blown out with lust, dark and unfocused, and his body stiffens with tension when Geralt presses even harder into him. It's so good it's painful. Nothing he cant take, nothing he doesn't want desperately.
When Geralt comes, it’s a constant hot pulse throbbing inside him and bolts of sensation are zinging along Jaskier's nerve endings. Is the snarling on his ears what does it for him. His walls clench around Geralt, tight as a vise on his cock, and he moans, and moans, and moans at the burn and ache as he comes. His senses are absolutely shot, on fire, alight as things edge over into a sharper sting. Geralt is still moving in brutal, bone-rattling thrusts and he's going to die. He's going to die with Geralt cock in his ass from the over-stimulation, and he can not give even a single fuck. Jaskier doesn't remember ever being so full and well breed in his life.
Thank the Gods he's already on his knees because he can feel his legs going weak and his mind clouding, blissfully high on his orgasm. There's a slickness sliding down his inner thighs that only adds to the sensation of him falling apart. ]
T-that was enthusiastic enough... [ Jaskier murmurs breathlessly, a cross between a laugh and a desperate cry, tired and blissed out. His voice is absurdly rough from all the screaming and there's no way he's going to be able to sing properly come morning. ] I may pass out.
[ Jaskier means it as a compliment but his eyes are a little red rimmed and he chokes on a whimper when Geralt’s hips snapped forward one last time. ]
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He does keep Jaskier's head down especially when he really screams, muffling it part of the way, conscious enough to do that and otherwise he can't think at all. He can only take and take and take until they're both wrung dry. He doesn't realize how far he's really gone until Jaskier speaks and it is an immediate wake up from his haze of lust and aggression. His body is still singing from the third orgasm of the night.
Geralt moves off of him, very gentle as usual in the aftermath. He encourages Jaskier to move onto his back, manhandling him again but with a kind purpose. There may be a slight worry in the way he touches Jaskier's body now, running rough fingers over his limbs to settle him in the bed. He knows the bard says he can take it, but the last thing Geralt ever wants is to hurt someone in bed.
He kisses him sweetly, brushing fingers through his hair.] Lie there, I'll clean up. [Geralt gets cloth for them and true to his word does exactly that. Despite his mild concern, he still is enjoying the image of Jaskier blissed out and lying on the bed, covered in marks from his mouth. Gods he's attractive. Geralt has no water there to give Jaskier but he does have the last bit of ale that he didn't finish, so he brings it over and offers it to Jaskier. He truly loves that rasp in his voice, but he still wants him to swallow through it.
These are the ways that Geralt shows that he cares. Words may not be his strong suit, but actions are.] Sit up, have some of this. [He knows that Jaskier hates his voice being too different, it is his trade after all, so it's the least he can do for now. They sweat a lot in their sex. Geralt folds over the sheets on the side of the bed where they both came, so it is comfortable enough for the night. Only after he does his due diligence does he allow himself on the bed too.
He puts his arm around Jaskier and encourages him to rest his head on him after the ale, like usual.] You would tell me if it's too much. [It's not a question, it's a statement. He doesn't want the bard to cripple himself to please his witcher lover.]
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He breathes a sigh of relief when Geralt shifts him, not because he wasn't having fun but because his lungs truly need the air. Jaskier immediately can tell that the man is worried and he gives his partner a soft, happy smile and reaches out to cup his cheek. He's fine, wonderful, just tired and still shaking from the aftershocks of a fantastic orgasm.
Jaskier is loose-limbed and soft in his afterglow, his body still drowning on endorphins to feel any of the pain from the bruises or in his muscles. He tries to nuzzle and kiss Geralt before he moves away but the Witcher is too quick. He always is, even when Jaskier's limbs don't feel like jelly. Alcohol might not be the best option to keep hydrated but he feels parched, throat raw, and welcomes the offered ale with a grateful smile. ]
Thank you. [ Jaskier mumbles, his eyelids feeling heavy. His hair is in disarray and he has the air of a man who's been thoroughly well fucked. It's not a bad look on him. He also seems to be admiring the marks and scratches he left on Geralt's body as he takes a sip of the drink. He hums pleasantly at the view, his eyes meeting Geralt's so the man can see the pleased look in them. His back rests against a pillow, watching Geralt as the man tries his best to fix the bed covers into something comfortable to sleep in. Jaskier feels his chest swell with affection. 'Witcher don't have emotions', his perky ass. ]
You don't have to do that immediately every time we..ah... I do appreciate it. Lots. But I like your scent on me.
[ Geralt pampering him when he can barely move is one of Jaskier's favorite things. But he's not disgusted by the stickiness or the feeling of Geralt's spend inside him, that's what he means in the end. With the empty cup now left aside and forgotten, The bard curls around Geralt's body, they're different frames fitting well into each other like puzzle pieces. ]
I would and it wasn't.
[ Jaskier's dignity and his ability to walk died a good death, good riddance to them. With all the strength Jaskier can must at the moment, which isn't much, he holds himself up by the elbows and leans it to place a feathery kiss on Geralt's closed eyelids, then moves further to peck at his mouth. ]
You're fucking gorgeous when you don't hold back.
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If he's sneaky enough he might go kill the monster while Jaskier's still sleeping. The sex will energize him and the clarification of their situation gives some measure of temporary peace. He'll feel like a fight and good kill when he gets up. He'll decide in the morning depending on how early he's unable to stay in bed. He doesn't want his bard to pout at him if he's gone when he wakes. But if he finishes the kill and makes the townsfolk content enough, he can come right back to bed and wake Jaskier up a delicious way. A problem for the morning.
Jaskier really does look fantastic when he's thoroughly fucked like this. He makes a very pretty figure. Geralt likes the feel of his eyes on him too; his body has always been something to fight and kill with. Jaskier's open admiration and attraction to it feels good. He doesn't have to flex to look more impressive; his muscles have muscles. He practically is always flexing. He's big and broad and he's all Jaskier's. He hmmms in reply to that and smirks, golden eyes warm.]
You stink of me even after several washings. My scent isn't leaving because of a cloth. [Geralt would know. Anyone with a nose like him could tell who Jaskier belongs to from a town over. He isn't disgusted by fluids of any kind, but it is a symbolic effort. It does make him feel a little better, being able to communicate through action. He likes to be reminded he's a man not a beast, which the latter can be more of a problem the longer he's apart from society and hostile toward it. Jaskier's solved that problem since the day they met.
He makes a snarling sound that's actually more of a content rumble, tilting his head up for the little kisses while his eyes stay shut. He is so very soft when it comes to the bard; it's important no one else ever knows. Except for Yennefer. She'll torment him enough over it. Geralt's eyes open after the peck to his mouth and he leans into it, kissing him a little deeper. He is definitely feeling well fucked and drowsy at the moment, which is rare and nice, and he tugs gently at the bard's arm so he'll stop being on his elbows and rest on Geralt instead.]
I am holding back. [He mumbles.] I could fuck you to death if I didn't hold back. [Geralt smirks and strokes his hair.] Take fucking note of that next time you're being a tease.
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The bad had planned to be the one tiring out Geralt but it comes as no surprise that things ended the other way around. It's late and he's exhausted int eh best of ways, he's probably going to sleep in like a rock, cocooned in the mess of blankets that smells like them until someone comes to disturb his peace. If he does wake up to an empty bed, he won't pout at Geralt...much. But he would, the Witcher is right on that assumption. That's a worry for tomorrow.
He replies to that hum with a pleased sound of his own, seeing Geralt relaxed, and loops an arm around his waist. Jaskier should probably feel grossed out about the whole scent thing, if they ever meet other Witchers this would be fun to explain, but instead, he just huffs out a laugh. The rumble he gets out of Geralt after the kisses make him smile so much his cheeks hurt.
Like a real wolf sometimes, Jaskier thinks, as they kiss. Lowering himself at Geralt's request, his cheek rest on the man's broad chest. Geralt makes a surprisingly comfy pillow and Jaskier feels safe there, he tells him as such out loud before he realizes the words have left his mouth. ]
Okay, point taken. But you're still very hot when you let go a bit. [ Just for that scolding, Jaskier pouts and lightly flick Geralt's right nipple with his finger. ] I will try to keep it in mind but I make no promises.
[ He snuggles even closer against the Witcher like he wants to burrow into him. He lets out a final long sigh at the fingers in his hair before closing his eyes. ]