givingexposition | Open Post

[ ooc. starter " Were you wearing a green and blue thong last night? I found one in my pocket this morning..." ]

And what if you trip and stab yourself with your own sword? Let's both agree to be careful and not think too deeply about all the 'what ifs'.

Fine, oh ye of little faith.

I wasn't thinking about that until you suggested it.

The 2 hours time frame he had given Geralt is almost due and Jaskier is moving around their shared room getting everything ready. Or rather, getting himself ready. It had taken him a whole hour to find a shop that sold a leather collar with lace in the right shade of blue Geralt might like. Then he had to get some beer, decent one and not the goat's piss they served at the tavern, go back to their room and lit a few candles to set the mood. It's still daytime but the bard thinks that the light scent of the candles might help Geralt's nose. One of the downsides of being in an actual big city was the array of different smells and Jaskier feels bad just imagining the stress Geralt's enhanced sense might be under all the time.

Jaskier puts on the pair of white stockings he had told the Witcher about, but instead of a gold ribbon to match, they came with embroidered gold flowers at the top, hugging his mid-thighs. They look new because Jaskier never really wore them while traveling with Geralt. Too delicate and not suite for the dusty road but he likes how shapely they made his legs look. Gold colored flowers in the stockings to match the nice shade of his yellow silk shirt, Jaskier once made sure to be looking into Geralt's s eyes when he explained that it was his favorite color. At last, he puts on a white pair of delicate, frilly smallclothes that took some time to find on his size, and nothing else, not bothering with actual pants. The brunette looks at himself in the mirror and smiles briefly. Geralt better appreciates his efforts.

As Jaskier lays down on the bed, fidgeting with the leather collar in his hands, insecurity rears its ugly head. What if Geralt thinks it's all ridiculous? Would he laugh at him? It would hardly be the first time one of his lovers decided that humiliating him was more fun but Geralt has never been like that. He will have to wait for the man to come and see his reaction.

Getting banned from their room for a couple hours has been both intriguing and worrisome. By now Geralt trusts Jaskier enough to know he won't be doing something completely out of the ordinary (while hopefully not getting himself into trouble) but it's still a concern to not quite know what to expect.

Lately, their relationship has taken a turn into uncharted territory but Geralt trusts in his own instincts and feelings (as rare as people think they may be for a witcher) to know what he wants, and nothing can pull him from his affections for the bard. Besides, that would surely break Jaskier's poor heart.

He takes his time returning to the inn but the messages promising cold beer and something more make him want to quicken his steps out of curiosity. Somehow, he feels he shouldn't simply barge in despite this being a shared room. Clearly Jaskier put a lot of time and effort into whatever is on the other side of the door, so Geralt simply... knocks.

"Is it safe to enter?" He calls from his end, leaning into the door frame. "Or shall I keep my eyes shut?"

He's surprised by the knocking, more so about Geralt's voice, because Jaskier expected him to come barging in. For a moment, he's ashamed fo himself. He should think better of Geralt, the man is always respectful and polite unless his patience has run thin or someone disrespected him first.

"Yes it is! I mean...no, wait, a second please."

Jaskier glances around the room in a frenzy, making sure for the twelfth time that everything is in order. He's even left a small vial of translucent oil by the bedtable, slick enough to be useful for what they might need it - and Geralt is a big man, they do need it- and unscented enough that it won't bother the Witcher's nose.

The bard look down at himself, unfastens another button of the shirt and leans on his side, propped up on a big pillow. The posture accentuates the curve of his hips and thighs, drawing the attention to his legs. Hopefully, Geralt won't find it ridiculous. There's a chance the man is able to smell the nerves on him, hear the fast rhythm of his heart already. Taking one last calming breath, Jaskier smiles and drops his voice an octave before speaking.

"Come in."

He can already smell the candles through the door but it isn't until he finally swings it open to come in that the pleasant scent hits him along with something else, unique to Jaskier's body chemistry. It all drowns out the concoction of unpleasant smells that make up a town like this, even if the inn is relatively clean to the naked eye. Geralt's nose never lies.

Nerves are fresh in the air along with arousal and anticipation. Geralt's eyes immediately settle in on the figure resting on the bed as he shuts and latches the door behind him. His expression is fairly neutral at first as Geralt unfastens his cloak and sets it aside, casually working off his mud-caked boots next. The leather holding his sword in place is unbuckled and gently propped against the wall by the dresser, and all the while his eyes have not left Jaskier, scrutinizing silently.

He notices the embroidered stockings, the thin and frilly smallclothes, the matching yellow shirt and - and is that a collar? It takes him by surprise enough to finally display it clearly in his expression, eyebrows lifting and lips curling into a smile when he finally speaks:

"I'm guessing I can't rip apart this particular present." It's a connection to their private conversation from before. The wrapping here is far too nice looking, something delicate and likely expensive. Geralt crosses the room to the bed and leans a hand against one of the bedposts, eyes clearly roaming along his partner's body before settling on his eyes. "Why are you so anxious?"

Edited 2020-02-23 21:39 (UTC)

Jaskier stays still, trying to look relaxed and casual, but his heart starts to beat faster the longer Geralt goes on without speaking. He's hard to read on the best of days but Jaskier likes to think he's gotten a little better at figuring out his body language with the years. The lack of mockery or demeaning words is a good sign, not like he really believes Geralt would be so cruel. The intense golden eyes staring at him make the bard think of being a deer prey to a wolf, only in a good way. He can't look away either. Satisfaction curls in his belly at Geralt's surprised reaction to the collar and Jaskier gets some of his confidence back, returning the Witcher's smile easily.

"I'd rather you didn't, not until you have enjoyed it fully." Geralt can tear the clothes off of him if that's what he wants, it would be kind of attractive too, but they are indeed expensive and Jaskier feels good in them. Pretty. Maybe not the word a man should be using but 'handsome' doesn't quite fit and he wanted to look pretty for Geralt. He wonders if anybody else ever wanted the same thing.

He sunlight coming through the open window catches on Jaskier's brown hair when he tilts his head up, following Geralt's movements and wishing that the man's hand too roamed over his body. 'I'm not anxious!' burns at the tip of his tongue but it's such an obvious lie that not even Jaskier can make it work. He's sure Geralt can smell it on him when he lies, anyway, so there's that as well.

"I've never dressed like this for anybody. I wasn't sure if it would be to your liking." Jaskier shifts on the bed, kneeling on the mattress directly in front of Geralt, and reaches out for one of his hands. He places the collar there, looking up at him with a coy smile and the start of a blush over his cheekbones. It's not like him to be shy but when it comes to Geralt, he often feels like he's navigating intimacy for the first time. "You said that blue flatters me."

That would be a humiliating way for a witcher to die, wouldn't it?

Please obliterate it from your thoughts.

Rather ironic. But what is life if not a big joke against us?

One day you'll finally appreciate my talent and the joy my voice can bring. Just wait.

The harsh reality.

I don't think you aren't talented. Your songs just aren't my type.

Yup. The only reason I don't write songs about that it's because it would get too depressing.

That's...probably the nicest things you've ever said about my music.

I've heard you practice music beyond the songs drunken patrons sing along to.

[as in, something more serious and perhaps from the heart]

I would hope you'd understand by now that I tend to exaggerate when I'm... upset.

I...do. On occasion.I didn't realize you were paying attention.

[ Why you gotta call him out on it, man. It's embarrassing. ]

I might have noticed that once or twice, yes.