[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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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. ]