Geralt can't imagine getting bored of Jaskier. They've been on the road together for a long time now, off and on, fully on after becoming lovers. Jaskier's always surprising, playful, amusing, and yes, irritating sometimes, but never boring. Geralt thinks he's boring in comparison. He is rigid and old. Set in his ways. Changing even slightly has taken time and effort, and it will never come easy to him. He balks at being pushed but on the whole Jaskier rarely does, and when he does, there are good reasons for it. Such as forcing the conversation after that debacle with Yennefer. Earlier in their relationship that would not have led anywhere good and led to a vicious fight between them, so sometimes it just takes time with the witcher.
He meant it when he said he always wants Jaskier, which is strange for him, to let something consume him that isn't violence or duty. It isn't difficult to rile him again. Geralt is content with some affection after sex, at his softest and most pliable when feeling good from an orgasm and good energy between them. He huff-chuckles. "I'm a decent teacher, but I am not nice." That should hardly be a surprise. He barely knows how to keep from being feral in the bedroom, fighting is a different story. Still, he leans down to kiss the top of Jaskier's head. "I will be less strict with you. A dagger is a good idea." Less strict does not mean nice.
Geralt smirks at Jaskier's attempts at innuendo, rolling his eyes. "You just did. Hopefully you got it out of your system." He knows that is not at all the case, but a man can dream. "Don't flirt with me while we're training. No distractions." It will already be difficult for him when his blood gets flowing and his energy spikes not to let that feeling mix with his active lust for Jaskier. He needs to train him! Not get distracted by the smell of his sweat and back him up against something. He sounds very serious when he says that.
A year ago they definitely would not have this conversation, but yes, here they are. Jaskier's eyes are so vivid in color, framed by eyelashes that Geralt would say were as pretty as any woman he'd ever met. His eyes are soft and it makes Geralt a little nervous on the inside, being looked at with such adoration. His own gaze is warm but not soft; it's not a comment on lacking the same feelings, more that he is made of stone. This is as sweet as he gets, for now. Still, he doesn't break their gaze.
Geralt nods at Jaskier's words: see, not that difficult after all. "I gladly will, once you are healed." They both enjoyed the sex they both have, but it will be easier when Geralt isn't concerned with every movement he could harm him too much. He wasn't so certain he could be as gentle as he just was, and now he knows he can be. It will make it easier for him to do that for Jaskier again. It means constant control over his strength and aggression, but it is worth it. They both will get let loose in their own ways at other times, an equal partnership.
He frowns and keeps caressing Jaskier's soft lips, tracing them. "When I told you no, it was not a forever no." Geralt doesn't like the idea that his one rejection for Jaskier made him uncertain of asking for anything else. He hesitated from saying no partly for that reason. So he is reiterating that it was not a flat refusal, although they both had permission for those, if need be. "I've never been fucked in that position before, it takes an adjustment." That is more than he typically explains or admits to, although he does not define his reasons for that. That should be enough. And it also means Jaskier will be his first when it happens.
He's grown used to always being temporary in people's lives, to be pushed away and forgotten in favor of someone better. Being wanted is so new that part of him is still afraid of screwing it up by being himself. But when stripped of all the outer problems, like invading armies or witches, maybe this is why they work. Opposite attract.
Jaskier can't stay still and Geralt helps to calm him down, make him focus, makes him feel wanted. In return, he tries to make Geralt's life at least a little happier. He also makes it a whole lot more complicated but some troubles are more fun than terrible to deal with. Or so the bard likes to believe.
"I never expected you to be, I know how seriously you take combat. I fight dirty too, remember."
Something Geralt probably knows as well. Jaskier considers pointing that out a fair warning. When he gets frightened and the fight or flight response kicks in, he usually picks flight. If he's really panicked, though, he might react by kicking his attacker in their soft parts before running. Jaskier doesn't want Geralt to kill him because the bard accidentally kicked him in the dick. He doesn't want to ruin Geralt's dick, for what matters, because they both make use of it.
"I'll try to get enough coin for a decent dagger the next time I perform. Uh...when I can actually perform properly." He's been feeling rather frustrated that his injuries make holding the lute and moving around a chore rather than bringing him the usual enjoyment. Only a few more days, he tells himself.
"I got it out of my system...for now." Geralt can keep dreaming but Jaskier being Jaskier, loves his sex jokes. And sex songs. And sex in general. He narrows his eyes at Geralt, his smile turning mischievous at that serious tone. "Flirt? Me? As a tactic to distract you from kicking my ass during training? I'd never! Frankly, I'm offended you ever suggest I'd do such thing Geralt."
It hadn't really occurred to him until the other man brought it up. It was good to have a backup plan. Jaskier can't say he's never been fucked against a tree by an overenthusiastic Witcher but there should be a first time for everything in life. He will remember to buy some more oil in town and carry small vials with him for convenience. If anybody asks, he will say those are for his lute maintenance.
"It's a deal then." He keeps looking back at Geralt but his eyes soon loose their sharp mischief, once again being affectionate and pleased. He knows Geralt is trying, that he did try and succeeded already, and it means the world to him. Jaskier purses his lips to press a kiss to the pad of Geralt's fingers. When the man speaks again, it brings a small flush of embarrassment to the bard's face. Yes, he had been thinking bout that day in particular and it's ridiculous how easily Geralt could tell.
"Are you sure that mind-reading isn't another of those Witchery powers of yours?" Jaskier wouldn't put it past them. It seems more like a Yenenfer thing to do, though, witch related. "You don't have to explain yourself to me but I appreciate it. I know it's not easy to be in that kind of vulnerable position."
He's been in similar ones often enough and has gotten hurt. Not just not only in a physical sense, it's more personal. Jaskier hand reaches out, brush over Geralt's side and gives it a small squeeze. He would be honored to be Geralt's first, it's not something he ever expected. "We will figure things out as we go. Do you feel sleepy? Think you can catch some rest?"
Geralt doesn't fear Jaskier leaving him in the sense of choice. He thinks it very likely that will have to be his choice, in the end, to walk away when he knows it's time. He said he would and promised nothing to the contrary. But he can't imagine the bard actively choosing to walk away from him, there is too much certainty in his presence, in his loyalty. Unfortunately those are the roles they have: the person who leaves and the person who gets left. But not yet. He will stay as long as he can and try to keep his temper and fear from breaking them apart early.
"It's smart to fight dirty. Whatever keeps you alive." Geralt is irritatingly honorable, yes, and he is far more careful with his human opponents than the monsters he slaughters. In life or death situation though, of course he would fight dirty to keep breathing. And he absolutely wants Jaskier to do the same. He isn't going to impose his sense of odd and unexplained honor on anyone else. Whatever keeps his bard coming back to him.
Geralt kisses his hair again; it's such a simple gesture and he likes that. He keeps his nose in the strands. They'll need a bath in the morning, he can smell the come in Jaskier's hair. Only a bit, but enough. "You can have one of my daggers." He has several blades outside of his swords, all smaller and for different types of use. In a fight who knows what he'll need to use. It is not as easy a thing as it sounds, to give Jaskier one of his. They are all well made and lethal, and a witcher giving someone a weapon of his truly is the same thing as offering a heart or something deeply romantic. He says it like it's nothing.
Geralt growls playfully at him. "No flirting," he warns again, knowing full well there will be flirting and sudden sex, but it won't stop him from fulfilling his promise of making Jaskier at least slightly more formidable. He will still always come running to rescue him and be glad for it, but whatever little things he can change to make himself less afraid of the bard getting injured are necessary.
He looks forward to fucking Jaskier that way now; it will be particularly satisfying coming in him after proving he can do it. Geralt brushes his fingers on those warm cheeks. Blushing. Adorable, truly. "Mmm, no mind-reading. I wondered why you were hesitant to ask for it, questioned whether I gave you reason to, remembered the one time I've rejected your request." He says very little much of the time, but he thinks a great deal. His mind curled around those facts, making conclusions, and yet again he's explaining himself more for Jaskier than he does for anyone else. It is pure logic in this case.
It isn't easy in particular for a witcher who is very dominant in sex and very closed off emotionally on top of that. He grunts in agreement, grateful that Jaskier understands, and gives him a compliment as a reward. "You were good at fucking me. You'll have another chance." It won't be as frequent as the other way around, but he enjoyed it. Jaskier was fiercer than he expected and Geralt still remembers the sensation of his tongue inside of him.
A memory for another time. For now he puts his long arm underneath Jaskier and keeps him close, tilting his head down to kiss him gently. "Perhaps. You rest." He hasn't slept since before the fight, unable to rest with Jaskier still injured, but perhaps here with the bard's reassuring heartbeat in his ears he can.
It is very unlikely that Jaskier would be the first to leave. He doesn't think he could even if he tried, because his heart would not be in it and it would tear his soul apart. He once told Geralt that he smelled of heartbreak but never specified who would be suffering it.
"I'm pleased that you approve." He really is, the curve of Jaskier's mouth curls up at Geralt's being so practical. He has no illusions about his combat skills, is well aware they're nonexistent, but he's also not a big fan of getting injured or almost dying, no matter how often that seems to happen.
The bard's blue eyes close and he hums is contentment at the touches and kisses to his hair. He loves it when Geralt does that, loves that side of him, and something so seemingly easy but openly affectionate has him rumbling like a cat. Bathing has been a chore with his injuries making all movements awkward but Jaskier will insist that they share the tub. He plans on behaving this time, he just wants to work on untangling Geralt's hair and massaging his scalp, the tense shoulders, dotting on him for a change.
"You need those more than I do!" Jaskier's head is snapping back up almost in alarm when Geralt suggest he takes one of the daggers. "What if I drop it by accident? If I lose it? I wouldn't forgive myself."
There are very few objects Jaskier loves in the way he cherishes his lute. He can understand that Geralt has a similar symbiotic relationship with his weapons and potions, he understands the offering for what it is. A meaningful gift. Important, even if Geralt's tone doesn't show it. Jaskier likes to think he knows him better than that. The playful growl has the effect of calming him and Jaskier scrunches up his nose rather cutesy, smiling back, and gives a small growling back.
"All right, all right...gosh, so demanding. The things I do for you." If training will give Geralt some peace of mind, and maybe help Jaskier in the future, he will endure the Witcher's harsh teachings...with minimal flirting. Minimal but no nonexistent, you can't ask that much from a bard when his lover is swinging a big sword in front of him, looking edible. Not like the amount of flirting would affect the result, he's looking forwards the exercise as well.
Head tilting, Jaskier leans into the hand caressing his cheek and then moves so he can place a kiss on Geralt's palm. He was joking about the mind-reading but Geralt is truly the most perceptive man he's ever met and with an impressive memory. It's no wonder he can read him so well. The words make Jaskier laugh softly, pride swelling on his chest, body melting further into the other's embrace.
"I wanted you to feel good, I'm glad you did. And any other chance will be welcome." If it happens. If Geralt changes his mind, that's fine with Jaskier as well. He accepts the kiss with another happy sound and his arm wrap around Geralt a little tighter.
"Not going anywhere." The brunette says in the end, hoping that Geralt can actually catch a break for real, even as he feels his eyelids drooping already. "I only really feel safe with you."
Geralt doesn't know where he learned such sweet and comforting gestures from. Certainly not from anything else in his life; his training, his brief moments with whores, his relationship with Yennefer, affection is not something he's been taught. Perhaps it is built into him, somehow. Or he got addicted to the way it felt when Jaskier would do it to him, running fingers through his hair, cupping his cheek, caring so damned much with every touch. He started to mirror it and now it came to him easily enough.
He frowns at the response to his knife offer. "I can get another one." He can, technically, but yes, his blades are special. And meaningful. Geralt scoffs and tugs lightly on Jaskier's hair. "It's not as if I am giving you my swords." Which he would never, ever do unless there was no other choice. Those are sacred. It is good that Jaskier understands that the offer means something though, it will mean he will be more careful with it.
"You are my ...." He actually doesn't know a word for it. He gestures to the two of them and their current nudity. That's a summary enough. Sex. Monogamous sex. With perhaps some emotions. SOME. "My knives are better than others, and you will carry one." It does not sound like he's asking, because Geralt rarely asks, he demands. The point being made is that because of their arrangement, he considers it only natural that Jaskier get to use his property. They've shared their bodies and lives together, what is one blade?
Geralt is old. He hasn't aged truly in a long time, but he is old, and he's always been very perceptive on top of that. He is adept at being in denial about himself, but in general, he sees situations very clearly. Jaskier is not difficult to read on top of that. He wears his emotions on his sleeves. Geralt can usually tell what he's thinking or feeling from a distance away, from only the posture of his back. He rolls his eyes about Jaskier's pride, knowing that he deserves a little smugness for his conquest of his white wolf.
"You are safe," he says quietly, closing his eyes as he listens to Jaskier's steady heartbeat. "Sleep." The command is gentle and it is only seconds after Jaskier drifts to sleep that Geralt does as well.
Some things, the good things, stay with the person even if sometimes they get buried under the pain and hardships. Jaskier believes that the world could use more kindness and compassion, and sometimes it's only a matter of giving people a chance, a reason to show it. And then, you reap what you sow.
He makes a small sound at the tug, not at all unhappy, then scoffs back at Geralt and settles down comfortably.
"I already play with your sword in a different way. Never heard a complaint before." He nuzzles Geralt's chess, kisses it softly, and closes his eyes again.
"Partner." Jaskier offers in a soothing voice, almost just a hum, even if he was thinking of a different word. Partner seemed fitting enough, personal but harmless enough. He really didn't need a word to define them better or expected Geralt to find one that suited the Witcher's sensibilities.
"I'll be careful with the dagger, thank you." And he really prays he never has to use it. Even on the off chance he manages to swing it around without stabbing himself, having to hold a dagger means he's being attacked or that someone will, inevitably, end covered in blood. None of those options are ideal. he will worry about it when the situation comes, and not sooner. Jaskier definitely humus at Geralt reassurance that he's safe, they both are for the time being. Being this contented and satisfied, falling sleep on Geralt's arms is easy.
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
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He meant it when he said he always wants Jaskier, which is strange for him, to let something consume him that isn't violence or duty. It isn't difficult to rile him again. Geralt is content with some affection after sex, at his softest and most pliable when feeling good from an orgasm and good energy between them. He huff-chuckles. "I'm a decent teacher, but I am not nice." That should hardly be a surprise. He barely knows how to keep from being feral in the bedroom, fighting is a different story. Still, he leans down to kiss the top of Jaskier's head. "I will be less strict with you. A dagger is a good idea." Less strict does not mean nice.
Geralt smirks at Jaskier's attempts at innuendo, rolling his eyes. "You just did. Hopefully you got it out of your system." He knows that is not at all the case, but a man can dream. "Don't flirt with me while we're training. No distractions." It will already be difficult for him when his blood gets flowing and his energy spikes not to let that feeling mix with his active lust for Jaskier. He needs to train him! Not get distracted by the smell of his sweat and back him up against something. He sounds very serious when he says that.
A year ago they definitely would not have this conversation, but yes, here they are. Jaskier's eyes are so vivid in color, framed by eyelashes that Geralt would say were as pretty as any woman he'd ever met. His eyes are soft and it makes Geralt a little nervous on the inside, being looked at with such adoration. His own gaze is warm but not soft; it's not a comment on lacking the same feelings, more that he is made of stone. This is as sweet as he gets, for now. Still, he doesn't break their gaze.
Geralt nods at Jaskier's words: see, not that difficult after all. "I gladly will, once you are healed." They both enjoyed the sex they both have, but it will be easier when Geralt isn't concerned with every movement he could harm him too much. He wasn't so certain he could be as gentle as he just was, and now he knows he can be. It will make it easier for him to do that for Jaskier again. It means constant control over his strength and aggression, but it is worth it. They both will get let loose in their own ways at other times, an equal partnership.
He frowns and keeps caressing Jaskier's soft lips, tracing them. "When I told you no, it was not a forever no." Geralt doesn't like the idea that his one rejection for Jaskier made him uncertain of asking for anything else. He hesitated from saying no partly for that reason. So he is reiterating that it was not a flat refusal, although they both had permission for those, if need be. "I've never been fucked in that position before, it takes an adjustment." That is more than he typically explains or admits to, although he does not define his reasons for that. That should be enough. And it also means Jaskier will be his first when it happens.
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Jaskier can't stay still and Geralt helps to calm him down, make him focus, makes him feel wanted. In return, he tries to make Geralt's life at least a little happier. He also makes it a whole lot more complicated but some troubles are more fun than terrible to deal with. Or so the bard likes to believe.
"I never expected you to be, I know how seriously you take combat. I fight dirty too, remember."
Something Geralt probably knows as well. Jaskier considers pointing that out a fair warning. When he gets frightened and the fight or flight response kicks in, he usually picks flight. If he's really panicked, though, he might react by kicking his attacker in their soft parts before running. Jaskier doesn't want Geralt to kill him because the bard accidentally kicked him in the dick. He doesn't want to ruin Geralt's dick, for what matters, because they both make use of it.
"I'll try to get enough coin for a decent dagger the next time I perform. Uh...when I can actually perform properly." He's been feeling rather frustrated that his injuries make holding the lute and moving around a chore rather than bringing him the usual enjoyment. Only a few more days, he tells himself.
"I got it out of my system...for now." Geralt can keep dreaming but Jaskier being Jaskier, loves his sex jokes. And sex songs. And sex in general. He narrows his eyes at Geralt, his smile turning mischievous at that serious tone. "Flirt? Me? As a tactic to distract you from kicking my ass during training? I'd never! Frankly, I'm offended you ever suggest I'd do such thing Geralt."
It hadn't really occurred to him until the other man brought it up. It was good to have a backup plan. Jaskier can't say he's never been fucked against a tree by an overenthusiastic Witcher but there should be a first time for everything in life. He will remember to buy some more oil in town and carry small vials with him for convenience. If anybody asks, he will say those are for his lute maintenance.
"It's a deal then." He keeps looking back at Geralt but his eyes soon loose their sharp mischief, once again being affectionate and pleased. He knows Geralt is trying, that he did try and succeeded already, and it means the world to him. Jaskier purses his lips to press a kiss to the pad of Geralt's fingers. When the man speaks again, it brings a small flush of embarrassment to the bard's face. Yes, he had been thinking bout that day in particular and it's ridiculous how easily Geralt could tell.
"Are you sure that mind-reading isn't another of those Witchery powers of yours?" Jaskier wouldn't put it past them. It seems more like a Yenenfer thing to do, though, witch related. "You don't have to explain yourself to me but I appreciate it. I know it's not easy to be in that kind of vulnerable position."
He's been in similar ones often enough and has gotten hurt. Not just not only in a physical sense, it's more personal. Jaskier hand reaches out, brush over Geralt's side and gives it a small squeeze. He would be honored to be Geralt's first, it's not something he ever expected. "We will figure things out as we go. Do you feel sleepy? Think you can catch some rest?"
no subject
"It's smart to fight dirty. Whatever keeps you alive." Geralt is irritatingly honorable, yes, and he is far more careful with his human opponents than the monsters he slaughters. In life or death situation though, of course he would fight dirty to keep breathing. And he absolutely wants Jaskier to do the same. He isn't going to impose his sense of odd and unexplained honor on anyone else. Whatever keeps his bard coming back to him.
Geralt kisses his hair again; it's such a simple gesture and he likes that. He keeps his nose in the strands. They'll need a bath in the morning, he can smell the come in Jaskier's hair. Only a bit, but enough. "You can have one of my daggers." He has several blades outside of his swords, all smaller and for different types of use. In a fight who knows what he'll need to use. It is not as easy a thing as it sounds, to give Jaskier one of his. They are all well made and lethal, and a witcher giving someone a weapon of his truly is the same thing as offering a heart or something deeply romantic. He says it like it's nothing.
Geralt growls playfully at him. "No flirting," he warns again, knowing full well there will be flirting and sudden sex, but it won't stop him from fulfilling his promise of making Jaskier at least slightly more formidable. He will still always come running to rescue him and be glad for it, but whatever little things he can change to make himself less afraid of the bard getting injured are necessary.
He looks forward to fucking Jaskier that way now; it will be particularly satisfying coming in him after proving he can do it. Geralt brushes his fingers on those warm cheeks. Blushing. Adorable, truly. "Mmm, no mind-reading. I wondered why you were hesitant to ask for it, questioned whether I gave you reason to, remembered the one time I've rejected your request." He says very little much of the time, but he thinks a great deal. His mind curled around those facts, making conclusions, and yet again he's explaining himself more for Jaskier than he does for anyone else. It is pure logic in this case.
It isn't easy in particular for a witcher who is very dominant in sex and very closed off emotionally on top of that. He grunts in agreement, grateful that Jaskier understands, and gives him a compliment as a reward. "You were good at fucking me. You'll have another chance." It won't be as frequent as the other way around, but he enjoyed it. Jaskier was fiercer than he expected and Geralt still remembers the sensation of his tongue inside of him.
A memory for another time. For now he puts his long arm underneath Jaskier and keeps him close, tilting his head down to kiss him gently. "Perhaps. You rest." He hasn't slept since before the fight, unable to rest with Jaskier still injured, but perhaps here with the bard's reassuring heartbeat in his ears he can.
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"I'm pleased that you approve." He really is, the curve of Jaskier's mouth curls up at Geralt's being so practical. He has no illusions about his combat skills, is well aware they're nonexistent, but he's also not a big fan of getting injured or almost dying, no matter how often that seems to happen.
The bard's blue eyes close and he hums is contentment at the touches and kisses to his hair. He loves it when Geralt does that, loves that side of him, and something so seemingly easy but openly affectionate has him rumbling like a cat. Bathing has been a chore with his injuries making all movements awkward but Jaskier will insist that they share the tub. He plans on behaving this time, he just wants to work on untangling Geralt's hair and massaging his scalp, the tense shoulders, dotting on him for a change.
"You need those more than I do!" Jaskier's head is snapping back up almost in alarm when Geralt suggest he takes one of the daggers. "What if I drop it by accident? If I lose it? I wouldn't forgive myself."
There are very few objects Jaskier loves in the way he cherishes his lute. He can understand that Geralt has a similar symbiotic relationship with his weapons and potions, he understands the offering for what it is. A meaningful gift. Important, even if Geralt's tone doesn't show it. Jaskier likes to think he knows him better than that. The playful growl has the effect of calming him and Jaskier scrunches up his nose rather cutesy, smiling back, and gives a small growling back.
"All right, all right...gosh, so demanding. The things I do for you." If training will give Geralt some peace of mind, and maybe help Jaskier in the future, he will endure the Witcher's harsh teachings...with minimal flirting. Minimal but no nonexistent, you can't ask that much from a bard when his lover is swinging a big sword in front of him, looking edible. Not like the amount of flirting would affect the result, he's looking forwards the exercise as well.
Head tilting, Jaskier leans into the hand caressing his cheek and then moves so he can place a kiss on Geralt's palm. He was joking about the mind-reading but Geralt is truly the most perceptive man he's ever met and with an impressive memory. It's no wonder he can read him so well. The words make Jaskier laugh softly, pride swelling on his chest, body melting further into the other's embrace.
"I wanted you to feel good, I'm glad you did. And any other chance will be welcome." If it happens. If Geralt changes his mind, that's fine with Jaskier as well. He accepts the kiss with another happy sound and his arm wrap around Geralt a little tighter.
"Not going anywhere." The brunette says in the end, hoping that Geralt can actually catch a break for real, even as he feels his eyelids drooping already. "I only really feel safe with you."
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He frowns at the response to his knife offer. "I can get another one." He can, technically, but yes, his blades are special. And meaningful. Geralt scoffs and tugs lightly on Jaskier's hair. "It's not as if I am giving you my swords." Which he would never, ever do unless there was no other choice. Those are sacred. It is good that Jaskier understands that the offer means something though, it will mean he will be more careful with it.
"You are my ...." He actually doesn't know a word for it. He gestures to the two of them and their current nudity. That's a summary enough. Sex. Monogamous sex. With perhaps some emotions. SOME. "My knives are better than others, and you will carry one." It does not sound like he's asking, because Geralt rarely asks, he demands. The point being made is that because of their arrangement, he considers it only natural that Jaskier get to use his property. They've shared their bodies and lives together, what is one blade?
Geralt is old. He hasn't aged truly in a long time, but he is old, and he's always been very perceptive on top of that. He is adept at being in denial about himself, but in general, he sees situations very clearly. Jaskier is not difficult to read on top of that. He wears his emotions on his sleeves. Geralt can usually tell what he's thinking or feeling from a distance away, from only the posture of his back. He rolls his eyes about Jaskier's pride, knowing that he deserves a little smugness for his conquest of his white wolf.
"You are safe," he says quietly, closing his eyes as he listens to Jaskier's steady heartbeat. "Sleep." The command is gentle and it is only seconds after Jaskier drifts to sleep that Geralt does as well.
[Sparring thread???]
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He makes a small sound at the tug, not at all unhappy, then scoffs back at Geralt and settles down comfortably.
"I already play with your sword in a different way. Never heard a complaint before." He nuzzles Geralt's chess, kisses it softly, and closes his eyes again.
"Partner." Jaskier offers in a soothing voice, almost just a hum, even if he was thinking of a different word. Partner seemed fitting enough, personal but harmless enough. He really didn't need a word to define them better or expected Geralt to find one that suited the Witcher's sensibilities.
"I'll be careful with the dagger, thank you." And he really prays he never has to use it. Even on the off chance he manages to swing it around without stabbing himself, having to hold a dagger means he's being attacked or that someone will, inevitably, end covered in blood. None of those options are ideal. he will worry about it when the situation comes, and not sooner. Jaskier definitely humus at Geralt reassurance that he's safe, they both are for the time being. Being this contented and satisfied, falling sleep on Geralt's arms is easy.
[Sparring thread! here you go :>]