True that, beauty is in the eye of the beholder as they say. Jaskier has little tolerance for those who call his Witcher bad names, though, and Geralt will most likely have to drag him away from a fight if the bard ever heard someone calling his lover 'ugly'.
"I like more than what I can see. You, silly wolf." Geralt has a good heart, is the sexiest thing about him. He cares and he's honorable, even if he might insist that Witchers don't have emotions. Bollocks to that, Jaskier thinks.
A startled squeak escapes him when Geralt pats his arse and then Jaskier laughs and watches him move away. At least he gets a good look at that wonderful ass, when Geralt turns he will surely notice the younger man ogling him with a grin on his face. Jaskier stretches like a cat on the bed, on his stomach, cushioning his chin on top of his folded arms while his messy fringe fall over his forehead. And yes, maybe he's putting a bit of a show for Geralt, so what?
When the other man approaches, he shakes his head at the offered wine and gets on his knees on the bed, wraps his arms around Geralt's shoulders and then pulls him in for another kiss. He can taste the wine in his tongue and it's even sweeter this way. When they part away to breathe, Jaskier looks like the cat who got the cream.
"I'll like that very much." A warm hand cups Geralt's face for a few seconds, the look on Jaskier's eyes full of warmth and something more he is afraid to put in words.
Jaskier had to have seen something more from the start if he was crazy enough to follow Geralt into danger head first. Even after years of rejection he'd find his way back onto Geralt's path, back into the line of danger and tolerating the witcher's moods. Resiliency is one of Jaskier's strong suits, he'll give him that.
He definitely makes a sight naked and happy on the bed, and Geralt even finds himself smiling before he's effectively tugged into a kiss. The wine is set down on the floor by the bed and the bottle of oil tossed onto the furs so he can use both hands to palm down the man's back and over his ass. A pleased hum is drowned into the kiss and by the time they part Geralt's own gaze has softened with heat, the yellow almost orange in the low lighting.
"Mm, I know it's been a while. I'll go slow." A while for them both. He leans subtly into the touch of Jaskier's palm, seeing the warmth in his gaze. Something more. He holds the gaze a moment or two longer before leaning in to kiss him again, pressing forward on the bed to push them back once more.
That he did, and he's sure it's only a matter of time until more people realize the truth about Witchers and what they do. This one Witcher, at least, one song at time. Sure, they're not always 100% the truth but they serve a purpose and they're entertaining. Not everything had been easy in the past, they had clashes just as much as they got along , and it would be a lie to say that Jaskier wasn't hurt on occasion. But he is right where he wants to be and that's not going to change anytime soon.
Jaskier mewls and gasps when big hands wander over his body, laughing under his breath when a feathery touch over his ribs makes him ticklish. It's so easy to get lost in those gold eyes eyes.
"It's been a long while, yes." He might have a collection of past lovers but he didn't trust many men with his body, no with the same amount of faith and devotion he shares with Geralt.
"Please..." Jaskier moans after the kiss, leaning further back on the bed and spreading his legs wider to welcome Geralt between them, reaching out to urge him closer. His body is already alight, cock curving over his lower belly. "Think about how nice my leg would look over your shoulder."
The bard starts, shameless because a tiger can't change its stripes and he likes being playful in bed. He follows the suggestion by running a hand over Geralt's right bicep, nails digging a little into the skin to add an edge and see what it does to Geralt.
The sweet playfulness paired with the edge of nails, a lewd suggestion, draw Geralt even closer to the other man. He leans over him with an urgent press of hands beneath Jaskier's thighs, urging them wider apart as he settles between them.
"I intend to have both over my shoulders, not only one," he replies, leaning down to kiss over Jaskier's chest and reach for the bottle of oil he'd tossed onto the bed. The scent is potent for his nose but not enough to bother him, and he's quick to get his fingers slick already.
The oil is warmer when he sneaks his hand between them and down toward Jaskier's entrance, careful to press and rub at the sensitive area. He only adds enough pressure to spread the slickness for now, until he's gauged enough of a warning to slowly press in a finger. The heat and tightness make him inhale sharply already but Geralt reins in his own excitement for the sake of making sure Jaskier isn't uncomfortable.
"If it's too much, you need to tell me." A strict and serious suggestion, eyes glancing up to Jaskier again as the finger presses in deeper, longer, until he's buried to the knuckle and slides out again, repeating the motion until he feels less of a resistance.
Jaskier's breath catches in his throat at that promise and hums in agreement when Geralt maneuvers his thighs and kisses his chest, muttering an 'oh, yes, please' in appreciation.
He loses his train of thought when fingers press gently against his sensitive skin, breath hitching but forcing his body to stay relaxed instead of taut as a bowstring. His body contract around the intrusion, thigh heat around Geralt's fingers and Jaskier is once against grateful that the Witcher is a far more patient man than he is.
"I'll tell you." The response comes quickly and the voice is sincere. He knows Geralt worries, it's endearing. Very sexy too, it makes warmth spread from the center of his chest down to every fiber of his body pooling in his chest. Or perhaps that also has something to do with the pleasant drag of the man's finger, sliding in and out easily thanks to the oil and making the muscles of the bard's abs twitch and tense up.
"And in the event of my mouth being busy, if I need you to slow down then I'd pat your bicep or thigh twice, sounds good?"
That should take care of any worries they might both have every time Jaskier's mouth gets acquainted with Geralt's dick. Because he plans on that to happen more in the future and doesn't want Geralt to be always wondering if he's hurting him when he goes too fast or too deep. The bard isn't particularly concerned because he knows Geralt would rather turn his sword on himself than hurt him. He also wants to offer him the same kind of deference, and Jaskier's voice softer when he ask. "You would tell me as well, right? If I do something you don't like or you aren't interested? I know I can be a bit, em....effusive during sex and I...ahh...fuuck."
A full-body shudder makes Jaskier tremble when the pad of Geralt’s finger grazes ever-so-gently over his prostate, the light sensation already setting his nerves alight. Always so sensitive, it's both a curse and a blessing.
"G-Geralt, please, more." Jaskier whines in the back of his throat and his hips roll forward in little jerks, inviting Geralt to slide a second slicked finger inside him.
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
no subject
"I like more than what I can see. You, silly wolf." Geralt has a good heart, is the sexiest thing about him. He cares and he's honorable, even if he might insist that Witchers don't have emotions. Bollocks to that, Jaskier thinks.
A startled squeak escapes him when Geralt pats his arse and then Jaskier laughs and watches him move away. At least he gets a good look at that wonderful ass, when Geralt turns he will surely notice the younger man ogling him with a grin on his face. Jaskier stretches like a cat on the bed, on his stomach, cushioning his chin on top of his folded arms while his messy fringe fall over his forehead. And yes, maybe he's putting a bit of a show for Geralt, so what?
When the other man approaches, he shakes his head at the offered wine and gets on his knees on the bed, wraps his arms around Geralt's shoulders and then pulls him in for another kiss. He can taste the wine in his tongue and it's even sweeter this way. When they part away to breathe, Jaskier looks like the cat who got the cream.
"I'll like that very much." A warm hand cups Geralt's face for a few seconds, the look on Jaskier's eyes full of warmth and something more he is afraid to put in words.
no subject
He definitely makes a sight naked and happy on the bed, and Geralt even finds himself smiling before he's effectively tugged into a kiss. The wine is set down on the floor by the bed and the bottle of oil tossed onto the furs so he can use both hands to palm down the man's back and over his ass. A pleased hum is drowned into the kiss and by the time they part Geralt's own gaze has softened with heat, the yellow almost orange in the low lighting.
"Mm, I know it's been a while. I'll go slow." A while for them both. He leans subtly into the touch of Jaskier's palm, seeing the warmth in his gaze. Something more. He holds the gaze a moment or two longer before leaning in to kiss him again, pressing forward on the bed to push them back once more.
no subject
Jaskier mewls and gasps when big hands wander over his body, laughing under his breath when a feathery touch over his ribs makes him ticklish. It's so easy to get lost in those gold eyes eyes.
"It's been a long while, yes." He might have a collection of past lovers but he didn't trust many men with his body, no with the same amount of faith and devotion he shares with Geralt.
"Please..." Jaskier moans after the kiss, leaning further back on the bed and spreading his legs wider to welcome Geralt between them, reaching out to urge him closer. His body is already alight, cock curving over his lower belly. "Think about how nice my leg would look over your shoulder."
The bard starts, shameless because a tiger can't change its stripes and he likes being playful in bed. He follows the suggestion by running a hand over Geralt's right bicep, nails digging a little into the skin to add an edge and see what it does to Geralt.
no subject
"I intend to have both over my shoulders, not only one," he replies, leaning down to kiss over Jaskier's chest and reach for the bottle of oil he'd tossed onto the bed. The scent is potent for his nose but not enough to bother him, and he's quick to get his fingers slick already.
The oil is warmer when he sneaks his hand between them and down toward Jaskier's entrance, careful to press and rub at the sensitive area. He only adds enough pressure to spread the slickness for now, until he's gauged enough of a warning to slowly press in a finger. The heat and tightness make him inhale sharply already but Geralt reins in his own excitement for the sake of making sure Jaskier isn't uncomfortable.
"If it's too much, you need to tell me." A strict and serious suggestion, eyes glancing up to Jaskier again as the finger presses in deeper, longer, until he's buried to the knuckle and slides out again, repeating the motion until he feels less of a resistance.
no subject
He loses his train of thought when fingers press gently against his sensitive skin, breath hitching but forcing his body to stay relaxed instead of taut as a bowstring. His body contract around the intrusion, thigh heat around Geralt's fingers and Jaskier is once against grateful that the Witcher is a far more patient man than he is.
"I'll tell you." The response comes quickly and the voice is sincere. He knows Geralt worries, it's endearing. Very sexy too, it makes warmth spread from the center of his chest down to every fiber of his body pooling in his chest. Or perhaps that also has something to do with the pleasant drag of the man's finger, sliding in and out easily thanks to the oil and making the muscles of the bard's abs twitch and tense up.
"And in the event of my mouth being busy, if I need you to slow down then I'd pat your bicep or thigh twice, sounds good?"
That should take care of any worries they might both have every time Jaskier's mouth gets acquainted with Geralt's dick. Because he plans on that to happen more in the future and doesn't want Geralt to be always wondering if he's hurting him when he goes too fast or too deep. The bard isn't particularly concerned because he knows Geralt would rather turn his sword on himself than hurt him. He also wants to offer him the same kind of deference, and Jaskier's voice softer when he ask. "You would tell me as well, right? If I do something you don't like or you aren't interested? I know I can be a bit, em....effusive during sex and I...ahh...fuuck."
A full-body shudder makes Jaskier tremble when the pad of Geralt’s finger grazes ever-so-gently over his prostate, the light sensation already setting his nerves alight. Always so sensitive, it's both a curse and a blessing.
"G-Geralt, please, more." Jaskier whines in the back of his throat and his hips roll forward in little jerks, inviting Geralt to slide a second slicked finger inside him.