[ The bard has always had a high sex drive, that much is true. He likes to enjoy all that life and people have to offer: singing, drinking, dancing, fucking...it's what makes life worth living. But hell if being around Geralt didn't make him stupidly horny for all the unusual reasons. He likes to touch the man more than he ever wanted to be with anyone else, it's almost as if Jaskier can't believe he's got so lucky, that he can't get enough of Geralt's presence. The crueler people are to his Witcher, the more Jaskier wants ot cover his face with kisses and kind touches, the more he wants to tell him how impressed he is at Geralt's bravery and loyalty. How much he loves him.
The last words, he manages to keep to himself. It might be too sentimental for Geralt liking and, despite the affection Jaskier has for him, he knows the man could break him easily just with words. That possible rejection is ever-present because it had always been in Jaskier's life and history often repeats itself. That is also a kind of worry that isn't suited for these early hours in the morning. Jaskier usually reserves it for the nights where Geralt is gone hunting some evil and he fears the man will not return. Not because he lost the battle but because he decided Jaskier was too much of a handful to deal with and chose another path, free of him.
But it's morning now, the dim light chasing the doubts away and the thrumming pleasure running through his bodies going in crescendo. Geralt realizes what he wants to do and he swears, bringing a charmed smile to the bard's face. The hand gripping his nape is a solid weight that he's come to love having on him. They rut and shudder against each other and Jaskier feels like laughing from how stupidly happy it makes him to have the chance to ride Geralt like this. ]
Yes. You're welcome. [ He gasps into Geralt's mouth and rolls his hips in a most promising fashion, dragging their cock together, still trapped into their firm hold. It's going to be messy and fast and good. With his free hand, Jaskier combs his fingers through Geralt's hair, gets a fistful, and pulls hard while kissing the man fiercely. ]
[Geralt already made the mistake of intentionally isolating Jaskier once and the damage was done at the time, apologies long since given and accepted, but still a reality that they've faced. Geralt has not always been the kindest friend even when his intentions were good. Perhaps it was inevitable that one day they'd come to this end result but he hopes however long it may last, there are no regrets in the aftermath for either party. Who knows if they'll last weeks or years.
If they had more time and resources out in the woods Geralt would have Jaskier ride him proper but this'll do for a quick morning together. Somehow it feels more intimate, offering more room to kiss and get lost in one another's mouths and touches. Geralt's hand is slick from them both but he keeps his grip steady as they rut up into one another, imagining the tightness akin to Jaskier's body, and that stray thought urges another guttural moan from him.
The tug on hair only adds to the sparking pleasure and his own grip on Jaskier's nape tightens, bucking up harder into the solid hold of his own hand and Jaskier's cock. He'll be a mess by the end of this but it doesn't even matter, he doesn't dare stop, tugging their cocks along with the natural push and pull from their hips. A heady moan is muffled against Jaskier's mouth and Geralt's breathing grows more clearly labored by the second. His free hand eventually lets go in favor of gripping Jaskier's ass again, palm sliding over the smooth flesh with a roughness akin to how desperate he is right now.]
[ There were a lot of mistakes made back then, and the words did leave a wound on the bard that cut him to the bone. He's learned to live with it, to deal with the metaphorical scar tissue and move on. Being with Geralt was never going to be easy, he knew that from the beginning, but the Witcher was hurt at the time as well, lashing out, and Jaskier accepted the apologies once things had calmed down. They're making up for all the lost time now, new good memories to replace the bad ones, and he tries to focus on the present and not worry about a possible end.
Jaskier has almost forgotten why are they even up this early, not like Geralt sleeps much. Something about training, his hazy mind offers as he rolls his hips at a quicker pace. Jaskier shudders when Geralt grunts, answering with a more meek whimper of his own, his pleasure just as intense. They're slick with pre-cum and Geralt's hands are rough from decades of wielding swords, adding just the right kind of edge. Another moan is stiffened against the Witcher's mouth and Jaskier pulls away only a hair breath, panting and arching his back. ]
Geralt, I won...ah...won't last long...
[ He keens when the hand grabbing his nape moves to his ass, feeling as desperate as Geralt. Even then, Jaskier smiles at him through half-opened eyes because his lover looks so beautiful in this moment, a wild thing, primal and untamed, and the bard is getting drunk on their shared pleasure. And so Jaskier tells him, words murmured in a rasp voice against the skin of his ear, low and loving, their cheeks brushing together, chest pressed close as he still sways his hips to try and push Geralt over the edge with him. ]
[How many more mornings like this will be in their future? It's hard to say, but Geralt hopes that they'll remain on good terms for however long this thing lasts. It took them this long for Geralt to accept a friendship let alone something more. The last thing he wants is to break Jaskier's heart.
As he presses down closer Geralt urges the movement with rolls of his hips too, jerking up in a steady beat to meet the way Jaskier slides them together. His grip remains steady and Geralt tips his head back with the building pleasure, grunting low in his throat at the whispers in his ear.]
C'mon... C'mon... [The urgency in his voice is just as low and breathless, the way their bodies rub and grind together adding bursts of pleasure where his hand squeezes. Geralt feels his arousal build to a point of no return and the desperation in his own thrusts increase, knowing he's close, stroking and rubbing until they both run over that edge together.]
[ Plenty of mornings, if Jaskier has any saying in it. It's maybe and impossible dream, a wish too difficult to fulfill, but he's waited so many years to be with Geralt, to be properly together, that he doesn't want to waste a moment. He leans in, kissing the man's collarbone one las time before groaning low in his throat, forehead now against Geralt's shoulder as he shudders all over.
Matching orgasm exists more in the realms of perfect stories and occasionally raunchy ballads. They hardly happen in real life although it's not for lack of trying from the participants. But they still do happen and Jaskier finds himself rising to his peak at the same time as Geralt, the Witcher's name dropping from his lips like a prayer. Their chests are pressed close, rutting into each other almost like animals, cocks sliding together, and Jaskier bucks up against Geralt as they ride out the delightful waves. He can feel every spasm, every hot spurs between them, it feels so good that he thinks he must let out an actual sob.
He's always oversensitive after coming, more than Geralt at any rate, skin feeling hot and limbs loose. He stops rolling his hips slowly, hands reaching up to cup Geralt's face and press their foreheads together as they catch their breath. He takes a deep breath through his nose, basking in the scent that is just Geralt, the kind of smell he associates comfort, with adventures during the day and love during the nights. They would soon have to get up, and clean their mess away, start training (ugh!) but for now he's too happy and relaxed to move. ]
[The simplest acts can sometimes feel the best, and somehow Jaskier makes something as easy as a handjob feel incredible and intimate. Maybe it's because Geralt's feelings have changed so drastically, or maybe because this is still all so new. Whatever the case, he doesn't want it to stop.
His hand slows its strokes and eases on the harder grip when they both begin to calm down, breathing hard and hearts beating wildly. He's well aware of how sensitive Jaskier can get so he eventually lets go in favor of letting them rest like this, the bard on top of him despite the mess and sweat. Geralt hums a contented sound when their foreheads touch and he closes his eyes, breathing in the moment just the same.
Yes, they'll have to get up, rinse off, and get to the rest of their day, but right now he's happy to revel in this moment a while longer. Their small tent feels like a whole other world.]
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
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The last words, he manages to keep to himself. It might be too sentimental for Geralt liking and, despite the affection Jaskier has for him, he knows the man could break him easily just with words. That possible rejection is ever-present because it had always been in Jaskier's life and history often repeats itself. That is also a kind of worry that isn't suited for these early hours in the morning. Jaskier usually reserves it for the nights where Geralt is gone hunting some evil and he fears the man will not return. Not because he lost the battle but because he decided Jaskier was too much of a handful to deal with and chose another path, free of him.
But it's morning now, the dim light chasing the doubts away and the thrumming pleasure running through his bodies going in crescendo. Geralt realizes what he wants to do and he swears, bringing a charmed smile to the bard's face. The hand gripping his nape is a solid weight that he's come to love having on him. They rut and shudder against each other and Jaskier feels like laughing from how stupidly happy it makes him to have the chance to ride Geralt like this. ]
Yes. You're welcome. [ He gasps into Geralt's mouth and rolls his hips in a most promising fashion, dragging their cock together, still trapped into their firm hold. It's going to be messy and fast and good. With his free hand, Jaskier combs his fingers through Geralt's hair, gets a fistful, and pulls hard while kissing the man fiercely. ]
no subject
If they had more time and resources out in the woods Geralt would have Jaskier ride him proper but this'll do for a quick morning together. Somehow it feels more intimate, offering more room to kiss and get lost in one another's mouths and touches. Geralt's hand is slick from them both but he keeps his grip steady as they rut up into one another, imagining the tightness akin to Jaskier's body, and that stray thought urges another guttural moan from him.
The tug on hair only adds to the sparking pleasure and his own grip on Jaskier's nape tightens, bucking up harder into the solid hold of his own hand and Jaskier's cock. He'll be a mess by the end of this but it doesn't even matter, he doesn't dare stop, tugging their cocks along with the natural push and pull from their hips. A heady moan is muffled against Jaskier's mouth and Geralt's breathing grows more clearly labored by the second. His free hand eventually lets go in favor of gripping Jaskier's ass again, palm sliding over the smooth flesh with a roughness akin to how desperate he is right now.]
no subject
Jaskier has almost forgotten why are they even up this early, not like Geralt sleeps much. Something about training, his hazy mind offers as he rolls his hips at a quicker pace. Jaskier shudders when Geralt grunts, answering with a more meek whimper of his own, his pleasure just as intense. They're slick with pre-cum and Geralt's hands are rough from decades of wielding swords, adding just the right kind of edge. Another moan is stiffened against the Witcher's mouth and Jaskier pulls away only a hair breath, panting and arching his back. ]
Geralt, I won...ah...won't last long...
[ He keens when the hand grabbing his nape moves to his ass, feeling as desperate as Geralt. Even then, Jaskier smiles at him through half-opened eyes because his lover looks so beautiful in this moment, a wild thing, primal and untamed, and the bard is getting drunk on their shared pleasure. And so Jaskier tells him, words murmured in a rasp voice against the skin of his ear, low and loving, their cheeks brushing together, chest pressed close as he still sways his hips to try and push Geralt over the edge with him. ]
no subject
As he presses down closer Geralt urges the movement with rolls of his hips too, jerking up in a steady beat to meet the way Jaskier slides them together. His grip remains steady and Geralt tips his head back with the building pleasure, grunting low in his throat at the whispers in his ear.]
C'mon... C'mon... [The urgency in his voice is just as low and breathless, the way their bodies rub and grind together adding bursts of pleasure where his hand squeezes. Geralt feels his arousal build to a point of no return and the desperation in his own thrusts increase, knowing he's close, stroking and rubbing until they both run over that edge together.]
no subject
Matching orgasm exists more in the realms of perfect stories and occasionally raunchy ballads. They hardly happen in real life although it's not for lack of trying from the participants. But they still do happen and Jaskier finds himself rising to his peak at the same time as Geralt, the Witcher's name dropping from his lips like a prayer. Their chests are pressed close, rutting into each other almost like animals, cocks sliding together, and Jaskier bucks up against Geralt as they ride out the delightful waves. He can feel every spasm, every hot spurs between them, it feels so good that he thinks he must let out an actual sob.
He's always oversensitive after coming, more than Geralt at any rate, skin feeling hot and limbs loose. He stops rolling his hips slowly, hands reaching up to cup Geralt's face and press their foreheads together as they catch their breath. He takes a deep breath through his nose, basking in the scent that is just Geralt, the kind of smell he associates comfort, with adventures during the day and love during the nights. They would soon have to get up, and clean their mess away, start training (ugh!) but for now he's too happy and relaxed to move. ]
no subject
His hand slows its strokes and eases on the harder grip when they both begin to calm down, breathing hard and hearts beating wildly. He's well aware of how sensitive Jaskier can get so he eventually lets go in favor of letting them rest like this, the bard on top of him despite the mess and sweat. Geralt hums a contented sound when their foreheads touch and he closes his eyes, breathing in the moment just the same.
Yes, they'll have to get up, rinse off, and get to the rest of their day, but right now he's happy to revel in this moment a while longer. Their small tent feels like a whole other world.]