Waking up when the sun is barely peeking over the mountains on the horizon is a crime and Jaskier reminds Geralt of that fact while rubbing at his eyes. Washing his face to try and chase away the last remains of sleep doesn't help much, it only makes him shudder in the chill air of the morning. The glare he would sure get from his companion is the only thing stopping the bard from going back to his all too thin bedroll and hide under the blankets to doze for at least another 3 hours.
Breakfast is quick and quiet, Geralt clearly doesn't want to waste much time and Jaskier is for once silent, his still half-asleep brain unable to come up with something witty to say but conjuring up far too many sarcastic comments. He looks around the small clear they have set by a nearby stream, noticing that Roach hasn't roused. She's still curled on herself by a nearby tree, calmly sleep. Jaskier never thought he would be jealous of a horse and yet...he distracts himself by pulling out from his boot the dagger Geralt had given him a few days ago. He holds it in both hands and turns it over, like it's something precious, watching the light of dawn catching on the sharpened edge. The hilt isn't decorated or anything of the sort, the whole dagger is made for lethal efficiency and not to show off. A bit like Geralt himself and it's a though that gets the younger man to smile.
Geralt has ordered suggested him to wear something worn out and dark for their training, both concepts unheard of when it comes to Jaskier's wardrobe. He put on the closest thing that fit the request, a navy blue doublet that he keeps unlaced over a dark grey, embroidered shirt, and matching navy breeches that lace from behind, over the small of his back. Jaskier might first have chosen the outfit because it went nicely with his eyes and the pants were easy to unfast but the clothes were also comfortable to wear and easy to run in. He always made sure of that last fact.
Roach has started to stir by the time they gather their things and move towards the nearby clear. Trees with smooth white bark stood all around them, circling a patch of grass, among a few scattered large rocks and roots. Jaskier's artistic soul notices the look lovely in contrast to the bright green and he could see the nearby river in the distance, overhear it without the advantages of Geralt's enhanced senses. Oh, the things they could be doing here, composing, talking, kissing...but no, the Witcher had to drag him out of bed at the ass crack of dawn for some training. Geralt is lucky that Jaskier loves to indulge him, no that it will stop him from complaining.
He spins the - still in its sheathe- dagger with one hand. It's the only trick he knows because it isn't that different from twirling drumming sticks and Jaskier had learned to do that when he was fine. He also does it to see Geralt's reaction, although he doesn't expect a noticeable one.
"So, where do we start? You try to tackle me and I undoubtedly end with my pretty ass on the floor? Because there are easier and more pleasant ways to get me on my back with you bobbing about between my spread legs."
Geralt is always awake by the time the sun is up, often because he might not have slept at all or only drowsed. If the sun is up, he is awake. He moves so quietly that Jaskier can sleep through hours of him doing things in their camp or traveling a distance (within earshot) away to hunt. He grumbles sometimes the bard sleeps too much, but he can't complain about that when he's the one that wears him out at nights a lot of the time.
He is at his most brisk and serious this morning though. He waited patiently until Jaskier regained his strength and no longer ached from his wounds. He had to be in good health again. Geralt has figured out how he wants to train him over the time in between, crossing off ideas that would make Jaskier a far better fighter, and downplaying it to acceptably staying alive. He's not shooting for the stars. It is difficult to know how hard he can push the bard too, and he also has to tell himself not to go too easy. Jaskier will never learn from teaching him like a child. Witchers train roughly no matter how old they are.
He looks at Jaskier's clothes and gives a long-suffering sigh. "I'm getting you better training clothes." Next time they go to a town; it is cheap after all, usually the type of material and look that is casual and does in a pinch. The purpose is if those clothes rip or wear out, there's nothing lost by it. Geralt looks at him pointedly. "If anything tears I don't want to hear a complaint." He is not entirely surprised Jaskier doesn't have that type of clothing. He's always in his colorful finery and foppish fashion.
Geralt intentionally does not kiss Jaskier or even ruffle his hair or make some kind of affectionate gesture. He is in his serious warrior mode at the moment. He steps over to Jaskier and simply shoots his hand out to snatch the dagger out of his hand as easy Jaskier handing it over himself. "No knife yet. You'll stab yourself. Especially if you twirl it like that." Jaskier could lose fingers that way. "First simple defense when someone gets into your space threateningly." Such as the way Geralt can hover over him like now, almost always threatening in the way the holds himself, with his broad shoulders straight and his hands loose and at his side to strike at any moment.
"No flirting," he reminds Jaskier sharply. They are about to be touching a fair amount and Geralt is determined not to get distracted. "Bend your knees, balance your weight, put your dominant leg back." He shows him what he means, getting into a common defensive posture. "The purpose is to get you free so you can run, not to win a fight. The nose, throat, head, and groin are the best places of contact. If you are going up against a real fighter, they'll know how to protect their groin, so you focus on the rest." It is assumed that if he isn't going against a fighter, it's an easier option. Geralt uses his dominant hand and puts it forward, showing his wrist snapping forward.
"When they get closer, bent your wrist, bring the blunt part of the bone up their nose, or under their chin to their throat." Geralt is all business. He manhandles Jaskier in a new way, reaching out to take his hand, putting it in the right position and then pulling it toward his own nose, showing him exactly where to hit and what part of the wrist to use. He mimics the same into his throat. "You strike fast and when they stumble back, run. The harder you hit the throat the better, they won't be able to breathe. Practice."
The lack of touching and general affection didn't do unnoticed. Aside from a 'good morning' kiss Jaskier insisted on giving Geralt, nothing but a peck on the cheek when it was clear the man wasn't in the mood for more, he had kept his hands to himself. It hurt but he is aware that Geralt is doing all this for his well being. Jaskier still think it all will be useless, he's not good at fights and that's a fact, but he is willing to give it a try for Geralt's peace of mind. It's already rather difficult because the Witcher is already getting a bit testy.
"If someone attacks me it will likely happen when I'm wearing my performing clothes. I should learn to defend myself while wearing this." Jaskier reasons, trying to justify his disdain for getting new, ugly clothing. It won't convince Geralt but he can try. "If anything tears I'll amend it. Melitele knows I'm great at sticking up clothes and certain someone's open wounds."
Geralt doesn't aks for his help all that often after fights, he rarely needs it and he has potions that help with the worst kind of injuries, but every now and then there's a badly placed blow from a monster that manages too tear into the muscle or gets at Geralt's back. Jaskier is happy to be of help when that happens, anxious about Geralt's recovery but managing to keep his hand from trembling.
Despite the feeble argument, he does as Geralt requests, keeping his flirty and snarky comments to himself. The Witcher has been worried sick about him, has looked after his health and stayed by his side when Jaskier was totally useless and in pain. The bard wants to show his appreciation, if he has to deal with Geralt in drill sergeant mode, then so be it. Part of him has been scared that the Witcher would push him away or leave because Geralt was terrified of getting him killed. But he didn't. He didn't and Jaskier is still thanking the gods that he got so lucky as to have the man in his life. What a disaster pairing they made.
"I know how to twirl a sheathed knife." He has to complain and pout when Geralt snatches the dagger away because this one of the few things he knew how to do with a weapon, thank you very much. He doesn't try to take it back, in fact, he will be happy not touching the dagger anymore, and fights the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a petulant child. He is determined to give this foolish idea a try, he is.
Geralt makes an imposing figure, always did, always will, twice as muscled as Jaskier is, even if they're close in height. Jaskier doesn't even bat an eyelid. Had it been someone else he would have been uncomfortable but he's never afraid of Geralt and not even his scent changes. "I like that purpose. It's a good purpose. Everyone should do it more, less bloodshed that way."
After taking a good look at Geralt, Jaskier rearranges his feet, shifts his weight and mimics the posture. He feels absolutely ridiculous. He lets himself be manhandled into position and then taps Geralt's nose, lightly, more focusing on admiring the man's concentrated face than thinking about the pain one can inflict with a well placed hit. Jaskier just doesn't have it in him to be violent.
"Practice." Jaskier repeats, a tint of uncertainty in his voice. "You want me to hit you? Oh, but of course you want me to hit you..." He draws his arm back, looks up at Geralt's face. The nose, throat, head, and groin are the best places to go for, he has said.
So, of course, Jaskier tries to punch him in the gut.
Geralt needs to get into the headspace he's in to be effective. And he can't do that if he's letting the bard hang on him and distract him with sweet kisses. This is all so he doesn't have to be sitting by his bedside, mad with worry. It can still happen, that won't be the last time Jaskier gets injured and he knows that, but this is the only thing he can think of that will soothe some of his deep fears. If it's only about how fast he can be, sooner or later he'll be too slow.
Golden eyes narrow at the bard and his argument about his clothes. While he assumes Jaskier is arguing so he doesn't have to be in drab clothes, he is also correct. He will be wearing this clothing if he's attacked. He hmmms neutrally and ignores Jaskier's poke about cleaning his wounds. He is back to his quiet and less wordy self when it comes to fighting, a focus to him that usually gets fuzzy when he lets Jaskier get his way. This is his could-be-in-danger mood.
What's difficult is that Geralt only knows one way to train: viciously. Vesemir didn't brutalize him, but he was a hard teacher, and he ran them all hard. He has to be careful with Jaskier, he can't fling him onto the ground when he messes up, or backhand him as a warning in a fight to keep alert. This isn't that kind of training. So part of his focus is also to keep in control of himself and not let his instincts react too negatively. He's a coiled snake, or a leashed wolf at the moment.
He doesn't want Jaskier to be afraid of him so it is always a relief when he isn't. But still. "You create all those stories, pretend I am a threat and not your partner." Otherwise he is not going to take this seriously. Geralt hums when Jaskier shifts his weight properly, looking down at his feet and clearly content with them for now. He stands still to allow Jaskier to strike at his nose and practice with that, and yes of course he wants him to hit him. Or rather, try to hit him. Geralt doesn't intend on letting him, but it's the attempt that matters.
Geralt shows exactly why having a good defensive pose is good because he sidesteps Jaskier's punch like it is nothing at all. He snatches Jaskier's wrist and tugs him off-balance, pulling him past Geralt so he has to stumble a few steps away. It isn't backhanding him and far less violent than he is used to, so he feels like it is a fair compromise. "You have to be stronger for gut punches." Honestly with Geralt's stomach being pure muscle, Jaskier might not manage even with a real punch to harm him.
"Elbows are good weapons," he goes on, as if he didn't easily toss Jaskier a bit. "The bone is solid and the impact when done correctly can be sharp." Geralt can toss anyone easily, so it shouldn't be an insult. "If strike someone hard on the temple, they'll get dazed. Come here." Geralt waits instead of manhandling Jaskier more. He is rather patient, all things considered. "You need to learn how to punch. That would have hurt you more than me."
Geralt going back to communicating only with grunts and hums would worry Jaskier on a normal day. Today, he knows it's because the Witcher is concentrating so he tries not to get upset by the lack of proper vocalizations. It's not as if Geralt is usually very talkative, Jaskier speaks enough for the both of them. However, the man doesn't grunt at his rationalization about the clothes' issue and he counts that as a small win.
He stops himself from smiling at the word 'partner' dropping form Geralt's lips. It's the closes thing to 'boyfriend' that he's ever gonna get and more than good enough for Jaskier. It doesn't distract him enough that he doesn't realize the importance behind pretending Geralt might actually hurt him and he gives a nod.
"I could imagine you like a giant spider, I always got disturbed by the little buggers. Too many legs and too fast, sneaking up on people when you least expect it." Jaskier makes a uugh sound, shuddering slightly. He feels safe by a Witcher's side but a tiny spider in a room would get him to scream in disgust. A man of contradictions, Geralt's bard. It was another reason why he disliked kikimoras and never insisted on accompanying Geralt when he had to fight those fuckers.
Even though he expected the Witcher to doge him easily, Jaskier still yelps at the unexpected grab of his wrist, almost falling on his ass before he quickly moves his right leg forward and regains his balance. All things considered, it could have been much worse, he can tell Geralt is coddling him. Bless the man's heart for his patience.
"I'm probably going to break my hand no matter what part of you I punch because you're made of carved marble." Geralt said no flirting but this isn't it! This is just...appreciation. Jaskier doesn't comment on how the only part of Geralt he will happily slap is his ass. See? No Flirting. He's holding himself in check. "Elbows, ok. I can do elbows, seems easy enough, effective."
It shows how much Jaskier trusts Geralt that he still comes over without hesitation when the man calls him, just like he did the first day they meet. It was the first and only time Geralt really hit him, and it had been because Jaskier pissed him off calling him the butcher of Blaviken, so he wasn't even mad about it. "Do I have to punch you then...?"
Only two people have managed to get him to regularly talk, and he is very grumpy about it. There were months Geralt went without speaking to a single person. Those were nice memories. Jaskier talks too much and Yen talks in riddles, and he wants to quietly sharpen his blades in a corner. But he does talk to Jaskier; he has to, the bard gets this sad look in his eyes that's more genuine than the pout on his lips and Geralt gives in.
When Jaskier informed him their title was partner, he considered it, and decided to accept. It could easily be construed as partner in a variety of ways, so it suited his preferences. Everyone knew that the two of them traveled together. If it became anything more in a public place than travel partners, it put Jaskier at risk. Geralt had enemies, known or not. There were a lot of people who would want to fuck with a witcher, and his beloved bard was an obvious and easy target. Unacceptable. The only thing worse than Jaskier dying would be to die because of Geralt.
They're both holding themselves in check. Geralt with his violence and Jaskier with his flirting. "I am made of muscle. From training. You might get a few too if you pay attention." He doesn't say it because he finds muscles attractive, but being stronger in general is good for people. Better health, better endurance. If the bard has to run a lot he should run as much as he can to prepare. Geralt likes his lovers soft in body, delicate compared to him.
Geralt hates that title and the one thing he cannot argue in any way about is that Jaskier got the world to trade in Butcher for White Wolf. And it means something to him, to have that ordeal wiped away, if not entirely in his mind. She haunts him less, these days. He takes Jaskier's hand. "Not yet. Look." He curls Jaskier's fingers. "Always have your thumb on the outside. You'll break it if you don't. Get in that stance I showed you."
He takes a step back into the stance himself. "A good punch requires the entire body. If you are moving only with your hand and arm, you will hurt yourself." Geralt leans his knees forward, tilts his hips, moves in slow motion so Jaskier can way the way his back arches and the full movement goes to his shoulder and then to his fist, striking into the air. "Immediately retract the hand to protect your face." Geralt jabs a few punches, each one faster than the last so Jaskier can see the progress from slow to full punch.
"You are quick, Jaskier. It helps. One heavy punch can be damaging, but several well placed fast punches can take down ago n opponent twice your weight." Geralt relaxes his hand and points to his side. "Don't go for the gut, you go for the ribcage. If one of those breaks it makes it harder to move and breathe. They're more fragile than they should be." On other people. Not on him. "Not the chest or the shoulders, they're strong and well protected by muscle, bones, and flesh. Throat, nose, eyes, ribs, toes, back of the knee, groin." This is his area. Jaskeir can wax on about stories and tell a good tale, but Geralt can talk about fighting all day.
Practice made perfect. Maybe the reason why Geralt finds talking so difficult it's because he doesn't do it often enough. If Jaskier has to learn how to physically defend himself, he thinks Geralt needs to verbally do the same. Or at least learn not to pout his foot in his mouth when he talks, especially where Yennefer is concerned. The white haired man is hard to figure out in the best of day, Jaskier enjoys having actual conversations with him every now and then and not feel like he's just annoying him. Like they're actually partners and not just him talking Geralt's ear off and then being ignored. There's also the fact that Jaskier is a little bit on love with his gruff voice, tough and raspy but nice on its own way and very sexy.
The bard has to remind himself to stay focused on the training instead of how nice the pants cling to Geralt's thighs when he moves to teach him the right way to position his feet. He resents the muscle comment, obvious in the way his eyebrows knit together for a second and his face falls, but he doesn't comment on it. Geralt made it crystal clear in the past that he enjoys Jaskier's body, he knows that, but every now and then he can't help but wonder if it's enough. If he measures up to others.
His hand stays relaxed as Geralt moves his fingers into the right position so he's not at risk of breaking his own thumb once the fist connects against something solid ad then reposition his whole body.
After Geralt punches the air, showing his movements a few times. Jaskier tries to mimic the position and angle, keeping his shoulder relaxed and trying to figure out how is he supposed to hit someone with his whole body without falling on his face right after the fact.
"A punch to the ribcage never did much to stop you." He gets the idea that ribcage are a weak point but credit where credit is due. Geralt is something special, probably even among Witchers, and Jaskier gives him a small smile. He is a good teacher, direct and clear, and Jaskier finds himself speaking before he can catch himself.
"You're a natural at this. I mean, not just fighting but showing how it's done. You could...you could teach others, in the future." Witchers don't retire, they get slow and killed, that's what Geralt said. Bullshit to it, is what Jaskier thinks. Witchers deserve a chance to grow old, to rest like everyone else. Let the next generation pick up on the monster hunting and unfinished battles to make the world a better place.
Geralt does talk. Some. He prefers to listen. This isn't new, it has been him as far back as he can remember. He doesn't know if he was a talkative child, but he's skeptical. He's very observant and aware of other people because he spends more time listening. But he only sometimes completely zones out when Jaskier talks now. That's progress. He does like the sound of his bard's voice, it's just the subjects he finds somewhat mind-numbing at times. They are very different people but have managed to make room for each other in their lives regardless.
He misses the eyebrows, more focused on Jaskier's form and hand at the moment. It wouldn't occur to him to desire Jaskier to look any other way than he does. He is very attractive. He thinks of muscles purely in the ways of how it would be better for Jaskier's fighting, not in terms of sexual appeal. His actions have made it clear that he desires the bard and never seems to stop being hungry for him. Not even now, when he's keeping a close leash on his interest in favor of doing this instead.
Geralt is amused. "I'm teaching you how to fight other humans, not witchers." If Jaskier had to fight a witcher, there would be no hope for him unless Geralt was within a foot of him. His kind was lethal in every possible way and also nearly dead. Some day he might end up being the last left, and inevitably they would go extinct. "If the person is a warrior, there's no use in punching them in the torso. But if it were a nobleman or someone soft, it would be easy." Geralt generally refuses to kill humans, the butcher title too close in his mind, and he avoids fights when he can. But breaking a few bones or tossing them around is perfectly within reason if he needs to.
"I had a good teacher, but I am not teaching you the same way. Otherwise you would have a black eye and a nose bleed by now." At the very least. Geralt appreciates the brutality of his training. No one could live fighting monsters their whole lives if someone treated them gently in training. He is somber when Jaskier brings up teaching others, going where Jaskier is leading with that thought, and he shakes his head. "No, I couldn't." It is a firm statement, no wiggle room. Witchers don't retire. They fight until they die.
"I am going to show you how to get out of a physical hold, and you will be tempted to make it sexual." Geralt gives him a warning look. "Don't do that, or I won't fuck you at all today." He is just stubborn enough he could make it happen, out of sheer spite for being disobeyed. The threat given, Geralt reaches over, fast as a snake, and pulls the bard into his arms, spinning him so his back is to Geralt's front. He puts his arms around his waist and tugs him close, clasping his hands firmly together at Jaskier's stomach. He can smell him so clearly. Fuck. "If it's just the arms like this, you lean forward, aim your elbow up, and back strike my chin with it. Pivot and do the same with the other, it should startle the person into letting you go."
Right, bending forward's a great idea. He stays focused. "Once they do, kick sharply at the back of their knees. It'll force them down and give you time to run. Understand?"
"I'm smart to know I don't want to fight Witchers." Not like he could even if he tried for a million years. It would be ridiculous, like Geralt attempting to pick up his lute and sing. Jaskier would give his left hand for that to happen, or at least his pinky finger, so he can more or less see why Geralt wants him to train his fighting abilities. Geralt and singing don't go together, it's something so not suited to his personality, and yet it would be kind of sweet to see the other try. Jaskier doesn't give the thought more than a second, knowing it's an absurd dream.
There's a new pained look on the bard's face that is purely for Geralt's sake at the mention of black eyes and bleeding noses. He has a very vague knowledge of how Witchers are trained, knows the logic behind it, but it only makes him angry at how much Geralt had to suffer. It doesn't sit well with him, even if the other man has long accepted the reasons. It's not fair, what choice did Geralt have as a kid? It was taken from him.
No, I couldn't, and that pretty much settles the issue. Geralt manages to kill even discussions before they actually start. He just expects Jaskier to accept his words as fact and shut up. It's frustrating, it makes the brunette want to scream at his face, to shake him by the shoulders, to do something. But you can't change decades of belief with kind words.
Jaskier says nothing.
He would usually snort at Geralt pointing out his flirting habits or get annoyed at the Witcher making it sound like he's doing it him a favor when they have sex. But after the turn the last conversation has taken, not even Jaskier is in the mood for anything. He nods after seeing that warning look, avoiding looking at Geralt's eyes. Wrong move, because even if he were looking at Geralt it would have been hard to get away from his hold. His momentary distraction and the sudden hold he finds himself in makes Jaskier yelp in surprise despite the warning.
Oh hell, but this position is distracting. Not the usual kind of foreplay they do, too many clothes in the way, too brutish movements...yet close enough that it gets Jaskier to take in a shuddering breath. His left hand moves back to hold onto Geralt's thigh, out of instinct more than anything else, until the instructions sink in. He is not flirting, he is not putting the moves on Geralt, he really is not. The Witcher isn't helping.
"I...understand." He tries to do as ordered, wiggling his body and leaning in first, which has the effect of pressing his ass back against Geralt. Is that really how fights are supposed to be? He doesn't remember Geralt grinding against any opponents, he has to pay more attention the next time.
But Jaskier tries, twisting his arm up and aiming for Geralt's head with his elbow. It's harder than it has any right to be, Geralt's arms, even if he's not holding him particularly viciously, are strong as steel. Jaskier's stage name comes after a flower, how that doesn't clue people in the understanding that he's not suited for fights it's baffling to him.
"Luckily the witcher you have doesn't want to fight you." That is almost a flirt, although it is dryly said. There are no humans that really stand a chance. In all Geralt's time it has always been the monsters who are the real threat. Humans can be challenging but in the end, he can mow them down if he wants to. He just doesn't want to. His golden eyes are warm when he says it but he resists the urge to be sweet at him. They are focused! As for singing, he chooses not to do it, that doesn't mean he can't. He prefers listening to Jaskier, despite claiming otherwise, but since becoming official partners he mocks it far less and occasionally says compliments instead. He truly does like Jaskier's melodies and singing voice, it's the lyrics he's slightly less interested in.
Geralt knows that Jaskier has a soft heart and therefore wouldn't like the acknowledgment that what he went through as a child was a lot of pain. He will never tell the bard the extent of their training because it would make him sick to hear. Geralt doesn't loo upon it as something to scorn or be disgusted by, the violence and brutality of becoming a witcher, because it is who he is now and it's kept him alive. He tries not to chase shadows. But he knows it is difficult to think about, for a partner. Geralt's reaction to Jaskier being in pain was frantic, he does understand.
He also knows Jaskier isn't happy about his rejection of any implications of retirement, but he feels it is better to refuse it outright than pretend he'll listen for the peace and reject it later. He already warned him.
This position is distracting and he wants to nuzzle Jaskier's neck, sniff his hair, he should have fucked him before they started this so the impulse was lessened, but he wouldn't have as capable of moving. Geralt snarls quietly at the hand on his thigh and then the wiggle, but then Jaskier does a fair job at following his instructions. Geralt doesn't move his head away, although he could, allowing the light blow to happen so Jaskier can feel what it's like to hit something. The elbow is a good weapon, it is blunt, and he smiles faintly.
"Good." The compliment is sincere; it's not as if they are shooting for the moon here. A decent amount of effort is appreciated. His jaw is very hard so it doesn't hurt, but he is pleased. "That is if your hands are not pinned. If they are pinned." Geralt moves quickly again, manoeuvering Jaskier's arms back in front of him in a very light pin. "You twist your hip to either side and then use that angle to hit at their groin several times. As many times as it takes."
He releases Jaskier, not wanting to actually be hit there. "The point is you can't simply push or use strength to get out of these grips, the person will be in a better position for it, it's using the grip against them, shifting other parts of your body and your weight to surprise them." Geralt takes a step out of Jaskier's physical presence because if not he's going to start smelling him. "Surprise and speed are good tools to get to run. But ...." He frowns, crossing arms against his chest. "If they put a knife to your throat do not struggle. You're not fast enough right now to get out of that hold and it's too dangerous. Give them what they want or wait until you're in a different position easier to defend." The last thing he wants is Jaskier getting his throat slit thinking he can get out of that.
Geralt is sending some heavy mixed signals and of course, if Jaskier falls for them he will be the one to blame, he's sure.
"Lucky me, indeed." They're truly super focused. Geralt can ignore the fact that Jaskier's heartbeat picks up at the man's sweet affirmation that he's safe despite the aggressive neutrality of their training. He can also ignore the way the blue eyes soften a little and the way the corner of Jaskier's lips curl up.
The day Geralt sing to him is the day Jaskier dies, chest bursting with joy. He's a man of simple needs and wants. The day Geralt shares any more details of his training, something unlikely to happen, is also the day something in Jaskier dies as well. It's not just that he loves Geralt, he also loves the freedom of choice and children, and his heart would bleed for the innocence lost.
The snarl makes the bard shudder, it's so close to his ear and so similar to the sounds Geralt makes when he's getting worked up in bed. He answers with a small whimper before he realizes what he's doing. Then everything else happens too fast. Jaskier honest to God expected Geralt to dodge the blow and he is both alarmed and impressed when he feels his elbow connect with something solid. Despite Geralt compliment, alarm wins over.
"Don't let me hit you!" He hisses, voice anxious. "I know I don't kick hard but it's not right, I shouldn't hit you. You can dodge."
The demand is probably against the very purpose of the training, it consists of getting Jaskier skilled enough to defend himself, but it feels wrong to hit his lover. He's never done it before in any situation that wasn't sexual and agreed upon, like spanking, and now that it happened Jaskier finds it revolting. It might have been nothing to Geralt but it doesn't sit well with him and he's still fretting by the time Geralt moves on with the lessons and moves his hands.
"Effective, also..ouch. I really don't want to be on the receiving end of that technique." It's obvious enough that Geralt doesn't either, which is understantable. Witcher or not, some parts are always delicate. Jaskier wasn't going to hit him again, though, much less in the dick. He's as much attached to it as Geralt, they're very close friends. "So, basically...I need to squirm like a fish and then aim for the delicate areas. I think I can do that. And I would like to say I don't know how a knife to my throat feels like but..."
He's had an eventful life and Geralt hasn't always been by his side. Thieves and other crooks see a bard alone on the road and realize he's an easy target. It had always been humiliating and Jaskier would very much want to avoid a repeat on those sorts of situations. "What do I do if what attacks me isn't human? Do you remember the harpy from southeast of Lornruk? It swooped down on us, talons trying to grab our shoulders."
Geralt is ignoring that whimper entirely. He'll get that whimper back later, but for now, it's ignored. He looks genuinely surprised when Jaskier reacts so poorly to hitting him, as the entire purpose of this is to learn how to hit people. He does understand in the general way that he clearly not hitting Jaskier when he should as part of this training, so he too is intentionally avoiding harming his bard, but it is different in his mind. Jaskier cannot actually hurt him, although saying as much might be offensive.
"I can teach you to punch the air all day but it isn't as helpful as hitting the target. I have a very strong jaw." To say the least. Other people have attempted to punch him in the face before and hurt their hand more than him. Geralt is a block of muscle. He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We may need to find someone for you to spar with if you can't fight me." It isn't unheard of, and they help out in villages enough that he is positive someone there would be a willing target for something so simple. It's put in the back of his mind. He can only train Jaskier so far if they can't be physical at each other.
"You'd be surprised how much it applies to other types of fighting. Someone puts you in a choke hold, you lean your head toward where they're squeezing, taking that space before they want you to and squirm out. If someone punches you, you move your head with it to lessen the impact. It's why fighting can feel like a dance, when you're doing it with someone who matches you." It seems like a strange comparison, but for Geralt it truly is. A fight is violent and bloody, but going up against someone as skilled or nearly as skilled as him is like the two of them comparing long-studied moves. Renfri was so in perfect synch with him as a combatant that if things had gone differently ... no, no sense in going down that road.
Geralt sighs and looms over Jaskier, golden eyes inscrutable. "I suppose I can tell you more about our enemies when we go hunting." It hasn't occurred to him, that's that funny thing. Jaskier asks him for details and he keeps quiet, because he doesn't like being distracted, but now he sees the value in it. He knew what to do when a harpy attacked them and so threw Jaskier down, but would it not help if he told him first? "Harpies can only strike in that way once at a time, if they miss you, they're vulnerable before their wings lift them again." Geralt took advantage immediately upon forcing Jaskier down, dodging and then sliding the harpy as it rose. That was an easy kill, once he was patient and let its arrogance be its undoing.
"I wish you didn't want to keep coming on hunts with me." Geralt steps closer, breaking his own rule to cup Jaskier's face in his rough palm. He caresses the delicate cheekbone. He always worried about the bard before, yes, and came to his rescue time and time again, but it changed. Geralt is infatuated with him and fears for him. It's thrown him into a loop. "But you want to, and that means danger, and that means you have to take this seriously, Jaskier." He leans forward, pressing their foreheads together, breathing him in. It's a very tender gesture, intimate without being sexual in the least. "It is important to me."
Jaskier's eyes go to Geralt's chin the moment it's brought up. Very lovely looking, strong, yes, also kissable. Jaskier would no doubt break his hand on it. Still, that doesn't change the fact he wants to hit Geralt just as much as he wants to put his hand into a blazing fire.
"Then I can hit a tree or one of our bedrolls, or a rock...actually, no, not rocks. I need all my fingers intact for playing the lute." Why do they even have to hit real people at all? Can they get a training dummy of some sort? Maybe just a pile of straws could do the trick. Those should be cheap enough. "Actually, if you find me Valdo Marx, our problem would be solved."
It's unlikley that the bastard of a man would lie still and wait to be punched but a bard can dream. All Jaskier needs is the proper motivation and apparently, hatting the guts of the person he's about to fight. The dance-fighting comparison feels a bit far fetched but it carries the message well. he's seen Geralt fight many times and it has never been short of fascinating, even if the violence has turned his stomach. The Witcher is graceful during a fight when he isn't pissed off and brutal but either way, it's a sight to behold.
"I'd like that." Knowing more about the monsters would help his training and it would enrich his songs, plus he will stop complaining about Geralt being stingy with the details. His mind is already memorizing the information and thinking if it can be useful for a ballad, if there's a way to add some small details to his songs. If he needs to learn how to avoid being killed by a harpy, wouldn't the common folk like knowing the same thing? It only makes sense to share the knowledge.
"You can't let me behind." It wants to be an affirmation but it comes out more like a plea. Jaskier hates himself a bit for it. He leans his cheek against Geralt's palm and then closes his eyes, feeling Geralt's forehead pressed against his own. His fingers itch to reach out and grab the front of the man's shirt but he doesn't want to overstep and ruin the perfect moment. Those are far too few between them. Instead, he presses his forehead back against him. "I'll try again. I'll do my best, promise."
"You will break your fingers on all of those things." He was so fragile. Delicate. Geralt could flick his fingers just right and snap Jaskier's wristbone. That reality makes him more protective and also a little more attracted to him and he doesn't ultimately know why, but it's true. "I'm going to get us training sticks, that will help. You will feel more comfortable learning when you're hitting another stick and not me." It is a smart move, and he can strip down two branches while Jaskier sleeps to make it happen. He can teach Jaskier poise and balance and the fundamentals of fencing without needing a blade yet.
It isn't that he wants to make the bard into a fighter, it's the opposite. He wants him just capable enough that he doesn't need to fight. That seems like a good goal to shoot for. Geralt thinks Jaskier will do fine once he gets accustomed to it. The bard is graceful when he wants to be and he is fast and long-limbed. "You will be glad for it, once you see the difference. I know it." Geralt truly does think once Jaskier learns a few things, he will feel more confident and less like he's always waiting to be threatened or have to run. There is power in not living in the same type of uncertain fear, small as the change might be.
Geralt only hmms in response to that, acknowledging that he will share thoughts on monsters more than. It will never be poetical the way the bard can be, more flat out facts, but he sees no harm in sharing it. "No asking about the potions," he says, making a small boundary. He doubts Jaskier wants to start doing alchemy, but he has to be careful. Some witcher potions are secret and they are not to be shared. Yennefer is as protective of her own spells and potions; the inhuman guard what secrets they have. But he can share monster information.
"Having you wait in a safe place is not leaving you behind," Geralt disagrees with a frown. He understands how it feels otherwise, but for him it is simply common sense. He comes back, they get coin, Jaskier has a story without the risk, it really is the best option. Except the bard is stubborn. This is a precious moment in ways, when they're not bickering or seducing, when Geralt is being gentle without it being the aftermath of sex. He is touching Jaskier for no other reason than he cares for him, their affection purely intimate as he runs his fingers through Jaskier's dark hair.
These are the moments he probably will remember best, when Jaskier is dead and he has to carry on. Their sex is fantastic and appreciated in their current time together, but in the future, it's the sweet times he'll remember. So he indulges, nuzzling Jaskier's nose with his own. Not kissing him or making it anything other than closeness. "Someday you will use these skills and I will get to say I told you so." Geralt smiles, eyes mostly closed.
"Probably." He's man enough to admit it, only a hint of frustration mixed with resignation in the tone. They're very different, in personality and in body, but opposite attracts in many ways. Jaskier's softness smooths out Geralt's sharp edges and the Witcher's strength helps him be a better person. It shouldn't work but it does.
"Sticks are a great idea. Who knows, I might even learn for real, as you said." Geralt has so much faith in him that it's hard not to believe, he doesn't want to see the other disappointed. Jaskier is rarely ashamed of anything, far too attuned of his own flaws and purposely ignoring them but Geralt sees them and instead of mocking him for them he tries to fix them. Fix him. Dare him to be stronger.
There's always something so odd about being awake so early when the world feels blurry around the edge, less cruel, and it's as if only two of them exist. The sun has fully risen, casting shadows under them and rays of light catch on Gerlt's white hair. Jaskier wants to run his hand through it, instead, he makes a promise.
"I never mention those in my songs, or the spells. I never will." The world needs to recognize Geralt's good deeds but letting possible enemies know about the potions that enhance his body or the spells that can catch an opponent off guard would put the witcher in danger. Is the same reaosn why he never mentions Kaer Morhen. Jaskier would never forgive himself. Geralt might rarely need saving but he wants to keep the man safe from further cruelty.
"It's not but I'm always afraid that you won't come back." When they first met, it was because he thought Geralt disliked him and was only waiting for a chance to get rid of him. Nowadays, Jaskier fears to lose him to a monster, human or mythological, and just wants to be there, by his side. Observing, learning, guarding.
This time the bard's fingers do find Geralt's shirt, curl around the fabric. He's not pushing the man closer or trying to initiate anything, he just wants to touch for the pleasure of it. Because Geralt allows it. Because it feels right and good. A smiling, quiet Geralt is a precious thing and how Jaskier likes to remember him best. It makes him feel so cherished when the smile is directed at him. He leans in to press a soft kiss to Geralt's mouth. Just a press of lips, nothing trying to become more but a testimony of his affection.
"Should we get back to work?" He doesn't want to but it's important for Geralt, so they must.
"You're smart and you like living. You'll learn." Geralt absolutely has faith in him, that he can get to the point that will make both of them content. Perhaps he will enjoy it and keep going, perhaps not, Geralt isn't going to push any farther than slightly better survival skills. But there is a great deal that he knows that he could share, if asked. Stealth. How to live off the land. How to track a beast without supernatural abilities. The witcher is a wealth of knowledge rarely tapped.
He nods his head to indicate he heard and understood what Jaskier was promising. He doubted that the bard would, but it still needed to be said for his own awareness. Geralt does sometimes make potions when Jaskier is around, and he doesn't make it very secretive, mostly because he assumes the bard has no interest in alchemy. That in itself is more open than he really should be with their secrets, but he's had his guard down around Jaskier for a long time now.
Geralt doesn't point out that if he dies, Jaskier will absolutely die, as he's the only thing keeping the bard alive most of the time. He would rather Jaskier stay out of it and grieve than have two graves instead of one. But that goes without saying and would be rejected. He hmms instead and lives in the moment, returning the kiss just as softly and not deepening it. He is clearly pleased when Jaskier indicates they can go back to training though, rewarding him with another kiss.
While the actual fighting can only be to a minimum, training starts out now with just getting Jaskier used to standing the right way, using the muscles in his legs, arms, and torso the right way. It isn't something that happens overnight and it is a work out even without needing to hack at someone with a stick. The small ways his muscles will be developing is slow but consistent. Geralt puts him through the paces but stops before iet moves from a healthy ache to anything else. It can't be done in one morning, so he lets Jaskier get a nice sweat and then tells him to pause.
Geralt has them go back to camp so he can give Jaskier some food and water, he'll need it after such an early morning. And he knows his bard gets cranky. "Stretch your limbs. There is a spring nearby you can wash off in." He knows how twitchy Jaskier can get about cleanliness too; see, he thought of all possible angles. He thought ahead with this. Roach is up now and he feeds her oats as well. While Geralt did much of the training with Jaskier, he's obviously built for all of this so he didn't break a sweat or even tense up his muscles, as comfortable now as he was earlier on.
But he's in a good mood. Jaskier did well. It's a decent weather day.
It's that reassurance and the honest belief in his ability what makes Jaskier pause and then smile back at Geralt, soft and pleased and touched. There's a darker shade of color blooming in his cheekbones by the time they kiss a second time because honest praise is what gets a shameless man like Jaskier to feel raw and naked. Loved.
Geralt has two more things working on his favor, one is that Jaskier is vain and the other that he likes to please his partners. If him being more fit is going to hit two birds with one stone, then he's more likely to try and train more often. Not to the extent any real warrior does, he's soft and he likes it that way, but well enough to stay in shape. Stealth would be fun to learn and Jaskier would be really into it. A nonviolent approach to situations that might allow him to leave or approach someone unnoticed? Yes, please. He only has to realize that asking Geralt about that is an option. Besides, Geralt really is a skilled teacher. Turns out the way to get him talking is asking about a subject he is passionate about.
The witcher doesn't need to point out he's the main reason why Jaskier made it so far in life, he's aware that he would have died much sooner without his companion by his side. He knows he's very lucky and tries to count his blessings every day. Geralt's last kiss before they get back to business gets added to the list.
The training isn't excessive but it isn't something Jaskier does every day, or ever, and his body is tense while he tries to mimic the postures or movements Geralt tries to teach him. It leaves him tired but there's a small satisfaction to the way his body aches and the look he gets from Geralt. He figured that the witcher must be tired too, if not because of the exercise then from having to handle Jaskier, and the bard didn't expect Geralt to provide for him. Jaskier pauses for a moment, giving him a thankful smile and a 'Oh you, fox' look at the offered food and water. Gods, but he's thirsty. His clothes have survived the ordeal with the expected staining but it's not as bad as Jaskier feared. He's pulling at his shirt by the time they get back to camp, feeling it stick unpleasantly to his skin because of the thin layer of sweat.
"Thank Melitele's bursting tits. I think I'm more dirt than an actual human being."
His nose scrunches up. It is not that he smells bad as much as that he feels smelly. It's nothing terrible, nowhere near how many other people gets after a fight or spending days riding a horse but Jaskier is used to peppering his skin with earthy scents and flowery bath salt. Now he just smells...well, manly would be a good word for it, he figures. It doesn't even cross his mind what Geralt might think of it, he's the one with the unfortunate enhanced sense of smell.
He takes off his doublet, dropping it next to his bedroll to worry about it later. His head turns toward the direction of the water, then back at Geralt. Jaskier doesn't say anything but raises an inviting eyebrow at the white-haired man and smirks before heading towards the spring, humming a song under his breath.
It is a noticeable difference, how much Geralt talks when it's about subjects he knows a great deal about, but it makes sense. He doesn't see much purpose in waxing poetically about subjects that don't matter to him or are outside of his understanding. He also doesn't like talking about things that are personal or revealing. But he can chat your ear off about proper sword care.
Geralt isn't tired because after the initial push back, Jaskier gave in and listened. He wasn't the best student, but he took it seriously enough that the witcher was satisfied. When they get to stick training it will be more difficult of a work out, but if he starts building up Jaskier's leg and arm muscles now, it will be easier for him too. He is pleased that Jaskier listened. He thought it would be more frustrating.
He snorts in response to that. "You are going to get dirtier," Geralt warns. He didn't exactly put him into the dirt, for example, which is more direct type of training. Jaskier's smell is not bad to him at all. He has come to enjoy the smells he associates with his bard, and the perfumes and bath salts are only a part of them. He knows what his true scent is, underneath all of it, and the sweat reminds him a little more of when they have sex, honestly. It's an appealing one for him in general. But no amount of spring washing will change it.
His eyes follow Jaskier as he walks to wash off, following less than a second later. As if he can resist such an invitation. Geralt decides to be a little playful, moving so fast Jaskier probably doesn't hear him in time to do anything. He sweeps him right off his feet and into his arms, holding him bridal style for now and as if Jaskier weighs as much as a flower. He weighs more, yes, but not all that much. He looks completely innocent as he keeps Jaskier close to his chest, smiling at him with glowing gold eyes. His mischief, which is a strange look in his gaze Jaskier is probably not used to, shows when he wades partly into the water.
"What will you give me if I don't fling you into the water clothed?" Is that a tease? It absolutely is. His smirk is present, a curve at his lips, and it would be so very easy for him to toss Jaskier. Look at how easy it is to carry him while walking. If he planned on throwing Jaskier in, he would have already, but he will at least pretend the threat is real. This is a rare mood for the witcher, but he is in content and wants to hear Jaskier squawk in disapproval.
It does make sense and from now on Jaskier will keep it in mind and will ask him more about fighting techniques and the like. Sometimes to learn, sometimes to enrich his songs, but most of the time it will be for the sole pleasure of hearing Geralt's talking and to share with him something he likes.
Jaskier has a large number of flaws but he makes an effort to do better when it's something that really matters to Geralt, something he knows is going to help them both in the long run. He will never be more than a mediocre fighter but if eases Geralt's worries, that is more than enough. Once they get to the point of using weapons and training with the dagger, he's not going to like it much, probably end cutting himself, but that's a worry for future Jaskier. Present Jaskier wants a cold, long bath. He can almost feel the refreshing water against his overheated skin and...
...and the world is moving under his feet. His surprised squeak resonates around the forest when Geralt picks him. Jaskier curses low and long his witcher abilities as he tries to hold onto the man's neck for balance. "I'm getting you a cat bell!"
He flails a little on the man's arms and only calms down the moment he sees the mischief on those golden eyes and realizes that Geralt's isn't going to immediately throw him to the water. Probalby. "Do I even weight anything to you?"
It makes him smile that Geralt is carrying him like a bride despite their similar heights, instead of throwing him over the shoulder like a potato sack. He's dealing with a festy Witcher, it seems, and Jaskier is squealing again when Geralt threatens him with a sudden bath.
"Don't you dare!" The effect of the complaint is lessened by the pout on the bard's lips. He switches it to a lazy smile the moment he catches on the game and then nuzzles Geralt under the jawline, kissing and licking the skin. "Hmm....I can offer kisses. Or I can offer you a song about training, how does that sound?" He doesn't wait for an answer, humming and then singing loud and clear; "My focus was on the job Dodge a punch, avoid the stick I'm still learning but all I hear is mock But now my Witcher is going to cheer me up with his dic..."
Geralt might want to find a way to interrupt him quickly.
A mediocre combatant would be a win for him. Geralt will always go easy on him but he also thinks that these types of skills will help him with monsters too. Someone who is accustomed to fighting or moving correctly, who is quicker on their toes and more aware of their surroundings, will be sharper in the middle of any kind of danger. Perhaps if they did this sooner, he might have been spry enough to avoid it when the ceiling came down on his head. Geralt doesn't know for sure, but he does think this will ease some of his constant anxiety. Being emotionally tied up in a human is exhausting. Yen did warn him but by then it was too late.
He chuckles when Jaskier threatens him with a cat bell. "You'd still have to be faster." Geralt has a steady grip on him but likes when Jaskier holds onto his neck. His eyebrow arches at the question about his weight. "I fight monsters many times your size, Jaskier." He might not be able to toss them as easily as he does his bard, but he still has an impressive amount of strength.
Geralt keeps on smirking at the squeal, his heart warm and pleased by it, and he makes a rumbly content noise in his throat when Jaskier nuzzles his throat. His soft lips feel perfect against Geralt's skin and he is more than happy to keep that going. It is very persuasive. If Jaskier went down that path it might have turned out differently for him, but he chose to sing, and to sing before allowing Geralt the ability to stop him first.
He could stop him with his mouth but Geralt can be unpredictable, and he rolls his eyes, showing Jaskier exactly what he thinks about that by tossing the bard into the spring. Not so close as to hurt him if he lands too shallow, and not so far as to end up drowning him, but he feels like it's an acceptable complaint against writing poems about his dick. He has warned him about that! He watches Jaskier and calmly starts taking off his own clothes, stripping his shirt off and tossing it down, the sunlight glinting off his silver hair and broad shoulders.
He is absolutely taking his time, dropping his boots, undoing his tight pants, all the while trying not to grin and failing at it. And this isn't his small smiles or a smirk. Geralt is truly grinning, smug and pleased with himself, and he won't even care if he's going to have to kiss some pouts better. He rarely gets to play a joke on Jaskier.
"I'd find a way." It comes out with a huff, the bard knows far too well that he will never match Geralt's speed. He stops moving too much so it's easier for the other man to carry him and leans against Geralt's chest with a contented sigh. "That you do. I'm nicer than any monster, though, much more handsome."
The sound Geralt makes when he sucks a small mark on the sweet spot of his neck is an addictive one. It's not every day that Geralt is this playful and Jaskier had all the intention to keep kissing him after the brief song. Too bad the witcher has no patience for art. The water smothers the scream of alarm when Geralt drops him and he sinks into the spring like a rock. He reappears only a few seconds later, splashing and cursing in alarm until he realizes that his feet can touch the ground if he only stands properly.
"You, wretched man!" Everyone's a musical critic nowadays. It was a good rhyme! He has felt really clever for coming up with it on the spot.
Geralt makes a nice sight undressing like that but, for once, Jaskier pays him no mind, arm reaching into the water to pull off his boots. Wet leather makes staying afloat difficult. He throws them at Geralt, both of them, but none of the boots really come close to hitting him. The water is cold and reaches up to the bard's collarbone, a shudder runs down Jaskier's body but it doesn't feel terrible. He's been really hot after the training and cooling down is good but he had wanted to do it at his own pace, getting into the water slowly. Now he has to deal with soaked clothes that will no doubt also end covered in mud.
The further Geralt keeps on smiling, the more Jaskier looks like a cat with its tail on fire, face flushed and barely contained irritation. He's not really angry, angry, but once he manages to take off his pants he flings them at Geralt's face. His aim is somewhat better than when he tried to throw the boots. Now, if only his shirt didn't keep sticking to his chest...
"You're awful. I don't like you anymore." Says the man that is in no way trying to get out of the water or even swimming away from Geralt.
The boots don't come close to him but Geralt moves forward so he can pick them up and out of the water for Jaskaier. It's why the pants actually manage to get him, but he doesn't look bothered, he sets them both down in the dry grass, away from dirt that would cling to them. "I did tell you to not sing songs about my dick, Jaskier." Granted, he said not to sing them for other people, but he still stays firm on that fact. If only he stuck to the kisses they probably would still be kissing right now.
He laughs, openly laughs, a very, very rare thing for him when typically the most people get is a chuckle. "You do." Geralt stands fully naked, knowing he cuts an impressive figure no matter what the circumstance, and that Jaskier enjoys looking at him. He then steps into the water, the cold not bothering him as it needs to be far colder to affect him at all. He is a graceful swimmer and goes under for a moment, golden eyes able to see Jaskier clearly from there.
As quick as a fish he swims to Jaskier and stands up, water clinging to silver hair and Geralt runs his fingers through it, pushing it out of his eyes. He's never been as good about taking care of it as Jaskier is, although he manages to get it straight enough for his every day look.
"Here, let me." He is not at all chagrined about it or guilty, helping Jaskier get his sticky shirt off and tossing without looking with it landing exactly on top of the pile he made. "You look good even underwater," he murmurs, his playfulness a little frisky too. And maybe complimentary to help Jaskier forgive him quicker. "I like the way your lips look full when pouting." Teasing as well as flirty. He is telling the truth. Jaskier's bottom lip juts out in a very plush way, making Geralt want to suck on it.
He really does find the bard attractive in a variety of ways, so much that he wonders how it took him so long to take him. He knows logically the reasons why, irritation and complication being top reasons, but he has always been stupid when it comes to desire and he knows Jaskier's body intimately well now. It's a constant temptation. Long limbed but delicate, soft and slender to the touch, a good cock, beautiful eyes.
He is smart enough not to immediately try to kiss and seduce him, instead staring at him heatedly a few steps away. "If it makes you feel better, I'll let you dunk me."
Jaskier snickers when the pants connect with Geralt's face, enjoying the small victory. It serves him right.
"You said I couldn't do that in public! Who's going to hear us around here? The forest creatures? The insects? I'm sure any fawn within earshot won't blush upon learning about your fat prick."
It will pain him to admit it out loud right now but Jaskier appreciates the fact that Geralt takes good care of his clothes and shoes, leaving them in a safe place to dry. Stupid man, always finding ways to be charming. The laugh doesn't help, it's such an odd occurrence, like meeting a unicorn. Something that will never happen to Jaskier outside his dreams because his virtue is long, long gone. Seeing Geralt standing in all his naked full glory, the bard is easily reminded the reason why he can't meet unicorns.
"Show off." It's only muttered under his breath but Jaskier has no doubt Geralt will hear him, he could probably hear him while on a different forest. Damn, but the bastard looks good standing close, with water running down his body and the sunlight catching on the droplets in his hair. Jaskier could compose songs for a year after this gorgeous image alone. His eyes darken as he looks at Geralt, pupils blown with interest, lust spiking and fingers itching to touch. Jaskier knows that he probably looks like a drowned hare in comparison. Lifting his arms, he makes it easier for the Witcher to help him out of the soaked shirt and then raises his eyebrows.
"I suspected you were taking a peek. Pervert." And if that isn't the most ironic statement of the century coming from Jaskier, absurd on many levels, they have seen each other naked plenty of times. But if Geralt is in a mischievous mood then Jaskier is playing hard to get.
The younger man still wants to reach out and run his fingers through the wet, long hair, as he does so often. Geralt is being sweet and flirty and he's not prepared for that kind of assault, it's a combo that shouldn't exist, for his sanity. Jaskier can't even be mad when Geralt mentions his pout because he makes it sounds like an honest compliment and he has no doubts that it is one. And then it's his turn to laugh. "Very tempting. But it's not as satisfying if you let me. Where's the challenge?"
Jaskier smiles and leans back, trying to relax his muscles and letting the water keep him afloat, his body growing weightless. They should have come to the spring sooner instead of sweating on their clothes all morning. Staring at Geralt and fighting the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Jaskier lifts his right leg towards him, long and paler under the water. His toes slide up and wiggle playfully over Geralt's hip.
"Consider it a reminder, my bard." The possessive use of my might as well be an endearment, more genuine than words that don't really suit Geralt like darling or sweetheart. They've come a far way from when he sharply drew the line at not belonging to each other. He swore that Jaskier would be his only lover as long as they were together, so they did belong together now. And Geralt can be a very possessive person. He snarls in warning at many a person who tries to hit on Jaskier in front of him; he understands why they want him, obviously, he cannot deny his own obsession is well-deserved. But he doesn't like it. Or maybe he does, if it means marking Jaskier later.
He really does like the way Jaskier looks at him. It makes him feel desirable, something Geralt in general does not really see himself. He doesn't preen the way a peacock like Jaskier might, but he does stand a little straighter, showing off his muscles and tall build. Jaskier does not look like a drowned hare, although his hair is a bit floppy after a surprise dip. But he also looks good wet and Geralt wants to lick the water beads off of his skin.
"I like looking at you," he confirms unashamedly about being a pervert. If Jaskier needs reassurance that the witcher wants him, there it is. Geralt probably likes his ass most of all, not only because being inside of it is heaven, but it's very pert and nice to pinch. When Jaskier floats near to him, resting on the surface of the water, he takes Jaskier's foot and tugs him gently closer. He stands to the side so he can simply look his fill down at Jaskier, now a feast in front of him.
He trails a finger down Jaskier's body, not applying any weight so he can keep floating, a single stroke from his clavicle down to the tip of his cock and then away. "The first time you seduced me we were wet." In a bath though, not a spring, and it was steamy for more than one reason. Geralt takes advantage to move his hand under Jaskier and run his fingers over his ass cheeks, squeezing gently. "I told myself to fuck you impersonally from behind and not stay in bed with you after, to keep things clear between us, and failed miserably."
Geralt is amused about that, and apparently feeling like sharing. He shares a little more every time he feels inspired to, something that is new to him. That first time he not only fucked Jaskier once face-to-face, kissing him senseless, but twice, and the second time he let Jaskier ride him in a very personal way. And then he stayed in bed with him, allowing Jaskier to snuggle into his side. "I was impressed you got up the courage to seduce me. I didn't think you would dare." But he should have known better. The bard dares many things. It's acknowledgment he knew Jaskier wanted him though, for far longer than that night, but assumed it would keep quiet.
Jaskier is sure that his heart skips a beat and he almost ends under the water after forgetting to lazily move his arms around to keep himself upright. He catches himself quickly enough but the smile he's trying to keep in check as he looks down at the water instead of looking at Geralt's eyes betrays him. Each couple has their own way to show endearment, it doesn't have to follow the norm, it has to be meaningful for them, and Geralt hit the mark perfectly.
So much has changed in a few months, and while Jaskier has sometimes called Geralt 'my witcher' when they're alone, this is the first time the possessiveness is returned, voiced loud and clear. It makes his chest tighten in the best of ways. Int eh past he has only gotten a similar sensation each time Geralt growled or glared at the townfolk who got a bit too close to the bard during a performance or once the show was over. They clapped him in the shoulder, invited him to a tankard of ale, or made an attempt at flirting. He doesn't pay attention to the later anymore but hell if it doesn't get the best reactions out of Geralt. Jaskier has grown ever more fond of being bitten and pushed against walls to get his whole self devoured by the White Wolf. He ends walking a bit funny the next day but it's worth the sense of pleased satisfaction they both get, claiming and being claimed. Fucking like rabbits in a bathtub count as seducing just fine for Jaskier too but he's amused at Geralt's wording. He considers himself really lucky that they worked things out because on his part that was a long wish fulfilled. Not just to have sex with Geralt but to actually get him to stay in bed with him afterward, as the man pointed out. What a night, that first one.
He likes Geralt. He likes Geralt for who he is and what he does for people who rarely deserve his kindness and time. And Jaskier would like Geralt even if the man were covered from head to toe in scars, in burn marks, if his hair and eyes were a different color or if he lost all his muscles. Geralt would still be Geralt, the person he fell in love with. It's a stupidly romantic thought, as it happens with artists, one that Jaskier doesn't voice but he tries to show with looks and actions.
"I can't stay mad at you when you say things like these, damn it." The bard's musical voice gets a little strained at the end, emotion choking his throat. It's really not fair how easy Geralt words can undo him when he uses them. That coupled with the way the Witcher reaches for him, caresses and squeezes him like he's something precious and attractive, makes it crystal clear to Jaskier that he will care for no other the same way his heart beats for Geralt.
The brunette straightens in the water, pulling his foot way from Geralt to properly move close to him and press their chest against each other, wrapping an arm around the well-defined waist. His hand reaches out for Geralt's and places it back on his right cheek so the Witcher can keep groping at his ass. There, perfect.
"These days you can fuck me personally from behind or any other way you want. I'd call it an improvement." Lifting his chin, Jaskier nuzzles their noses closer, brushes their lips together. "High risk, high reward. If you are expecting me to regret it you'll get old waiting."
His hands slide down the small of Geralt's back, over the perfect perky gloves, and he gives the man's arse a good squeeze. Jaskier's smile is big infectious and shameless. Kiss me, it says.
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
@Risin' up, back on the street, Did my time, took my chances.
Breakfast is quick and quiet, Geralt clearly doesn't want to waste much time and Jaskier is for once silent, his still half-asleep brain unable to come up with something witty to say but conjuring up far too many sarcastic comments. He looks around the small clear they have set by a nearby stream, noticing that Roach hasn't roused. She's still curled on herself by a nearby tree, calmly sleep. Jaskier never thought he would be jealous of a horse and yet...he distracts himself by pulling out from his boot the dagger Geralt had given him a few days ago. He holds it in both hands and turns it over, like it's something precious, watching the light of dawn catching on the sharpened edge. The hilt isn't decorated or anything of the sort, the whole dagger is made for lethal efficiency and not to show off. A bit like Geralt himself and it's a though that gets the younger man to smile.
Geralt has
orderedsuggested him to wear something worn out and dark for their training, both concepts unheard of when it comes to Jaskier's wardrobe. He put on the closest thing that fit the request, a navy blue doublet that he keeps unlaced over a dark grey, embroidered shirt, and matching navy breeches that lace from behind, over the small of his back. Jaskier might first have chosen the outfit because it went nicely with his eyes and the pants were easy to unfast but the clothes were also comfortable to wear and easy to run in. He always made sure of that last fact.Roach has started to stir by the time they gather their things and move towards the nearby clear. Trees with smooth white bark stood all around them, circling a patch of grass, among a few scattered large rocks and roots. Jaskier's artistic soul notices the look lovely in contrast to the bright green and he could see the nearby river in the distance, overhear it without the advantages of Geralt's enhanced senses. Oh, the things they could be doing here, composing, talking, kissing...but no, the Witcher had to drag him out of bed at the ass crack of dawn for some training. Geralt is lucky that Jaskier loves to indulge him, no that it will stop him from complaining.
He spins the - still in its sheathe- dagger with one hand. It's the only trick he knows because it isn't that different from twirling drumming sticks and Jaskier had learned to do that when he was fine. He also does it to see Geralt's reaction, although he doesn't expect a noticeable one.
"So, where do we start? You try to tackle me and I undoubtedly end with my pretty ass on the floor? Because there are easier and more pleasant ways to get me on my back with you bobbing about between my spread legs."
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He is at his most brisk and serious this morning though. He waited patiently until Jaskier regained his strength and no longer ached from his wounds. He had to be in good health again. Geralt has figured out how he wants to train him over the time in between, crossing off ideas that would make Jaskier a far better fighter, and downplaying it to acceptably staying alive. He's not shooting for the stars. It is difficult to know how hard he can push the bard too, and he also has to tell himself not to go too easy. Jaskier will never learn from teaching him like a child. Witchers train roughly no matter how old they are.
He looks at Jaskier's clothes and gives a long-suffering sigh. "I'm getting you better training clothes." Next time they go to a town; it is cheap after all, usually the type of material and look that is casual and does in a pinch. The purpose is if those clothes rip or wear out, there's nothing lost by it. Geralt looks at him pointedly. "If anything tears I don't want to hear a complaint." He is not entirely surprised Jaskier doesn't have that type of clothing. He's always in his colorful finery and foppish fashion.
Geralt intentionally does not kiss Jaskier or even ruffle his hair or make some kind of affectionate gesture. He is in his serious warrior mode at the moment. He steps over to Jaskier and simply shoots his hand out to snatch the dagger out of his hand as easy Jaskier handing it over himself. "No knife yet. You'll stab yourself. Especially if you twirl it like that." Jaskier could lose fingers that way. "First simple defense when someone gets into your space threateningly." Such as the way Geralt can hover over him like now, almost always threatening in the way the holds himself, with his broad shoulders straight and his hands loose and at his side to strike at any moment.
"No flirting," he reminds Jaskier sharply. They are about to be touching a fair amount and Geralt is determined not to get distracted. "Bend your knees, balance your weight, put your dominant leg back." He shows him what he means, getting into a common defensive posture. "The purpose is to get you free so you can run, not to win a fight. The nose, throat, head, and groin are the best places of contact. If you are going up against a real fighter, they'll know how to protect their groin, so you focus on the rest." It is assumed that if he isn't going against a fighter, it's an easier option. Geralt uses his dominant hand and puts it forward, showing his wrist snapping forward.
"When they get closer, bent your wrist, bring the blunt part of the bone up their nose, or under their chin to their throat." Geralt is all business. He manhandles Jaskier in a new way, reaching out to take his hand, putting it in the right position and then pulling it toward his own nose, showing him exactly where to hit and what part of the wrist to use. He mimics the same into his throat. "You strike fast and when they stumble back, run. The harder you hit the throat the better, they won't be able to breathe. Practice."
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"If someone attacks me it will likely happen when I'm wearing my performing clothes. I should learn to defend myself while wearing this." Jaskier reasons, trying to justify his disdain for getting new, ugly clothing. It won't convince Geralt but he can try. "If anything tears I'll amend it. Melitele knows I'm great at sticking up clothes and certain someone's open wounds."
Geralt doesn't aks for his help all that often after fights, he rarely needs it and he has potions that help with the worst kind of injuries, but every now and then there's a badly placed blow from a monster that manages too tear into the muscle or gets at Geralt's back. Jaskier is happy to be of help when that happens, anxious about Geralt's recovery but managing to keep his hand from trembling.
Despite the feeble argument, he does as Geralt requests, keeping his flirty and snarky comments to himself. The Witcher has been worried sick about him, has looked after his health and stayed by his side when Jaskier was totally useless and in pain. The bard wants to show his appreciation, if he has to deal with Geralt in drill sergeant mode, then so be it. Part of him has been scared that the Witcher would push him away or leave because Geralt was terrified of getting him killed. But he didn't. He didn't and Jaskier is still thanking the gods that he got so lucky as to have the man in his life. What a disaster pairing they made.
"I know how to twirl a sheathed knife." He has to complain and pout when Geralt snatches the dagger away because this one of the few things he knew how to do with a weapon, thank you very much. He doesn't try to take it back, in fact, he will be happy not touching the dagger anymore, and fights the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a petulant child. He is determined to give this foolish idea a try, he is.
Geralt makes an imposing figure, always did, always will, twice as muscled as Jaskier is, even if they're close in height. Jaskier doesn't even bat an eyelid. Had it been someone else he would have been uncomfortable but he's never afraid of Geralt and not even his scent changes. "I like that purpose. It's a good purpose. Everyone should do it more, less bloodshed that way."
After taking a good look at Geralt, Jaskier rearranges his feet, shifts his weight and mimics the posture. He feels absolutely ridiculous. He lets himself be manhandled into position and then taps Geralt's nose, lightly, more focusing on admiring the man's concentrated face than thinking about the pain one can inflict with a well placed hit. Jaskier just doesn't have it in him to be violent.
"Practice." Jaskier repeats, a tint of uncertainty in his voice. "You want me to hit you? Oh, but of course you want me to hit you..." He draws his arm back, looks up at Geralt's face. The nose, throat, head, and groin are the best places to go for, he has said.
So, of course, Jaskier tries to punch him in the gut.
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Golden eyes narrow at the bard and his argument about his clothes. While he assumes Jaskier is arguing so he doesn't have to be in drab clothes, he is also correct. He will be wearing this clothing if he's attacked. He hmmms neutrally and ignores Jaskier's poke about cleaning his wounds. He is back to his quiet and less wordy self when it comes to fighting, a focus to him that usually gets fuzzy when he lets Jaskier get his way. This is his could-be-in-danger mood.
What's difficult is that Geralt only knows one way to train: viciously. Vesemir didn't brutalize him, but he was a hard teacher, and he ran them all hard. He has to be careful with Jaskier, he can't fling him onto the ground when he messes up, or backhand him as a warning in a fight to keep alert. This isn't that kind of training. So part of his focus is also to keep in control of himself and not let his instincts react too negatively. He's a coiled snake, or a leashed wolf at the moment.
He doesn't want Jaskier to be afraid of him so it is always a relief when he isn't. But still. "You create all those stories, pretend I am a threat and not your partner." Otherwise he is not going to take this seriously. Geralt hums when Jaskier shifts his weight properly, looking down at his feet and clearly content with them for now. He stands still to allow Jaskier to strike at his nose and practice with that, and yes of course he wants him to hit him. Or rather, try to hit him. Geralt doesn't intend on letting him, but it's the attempt that matters.
Geralt shows exactly why having a good defensive pose is good because he sidesteps Jaskier's punch like it is nothing at all. He snatches Jaskier's wrist and tugs him off-balance, pulling him past Geralt so he has to stumble a few steps away. It isn't backhanding him and far less violent than he is used to, so he feels like it is a fair compromise. "You have to be stronger for gut punches." Honestly with Geralt's stomach being pure muscle, Jaskier might not manage even with a real punch to harm him.
"Elbows are good weapons," he goes on, as if he didn't easily toss Jaskier a bit. "The bone is solid and the impact when done correctly can be sharp." Geralt can toss anyone easily, so it shouldn't be an insult. "If strike someone hard on the temple, they'll get dazed. Come here." Geralt waits instead of manhandling Jaskier more. He is rather patient, all things considered. "You need to learn how to punch. That would have hurt you more than me."
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He stops himself from smiling at the word 'partner' dropping form Geralt's lips. It's the closes thing to 'boyfriend' that he's ever gonna get and more than good enough for Jaskier. It doesn't distract him enough that he doesn't realize the importance behind pretending Geralt might actually hurt him and he gives a nod.
"I could imagine you like a giant spider, I always got disturbed by the little buggers. Too many legs and too fast, sneaking up on people when you least expect it." Jaskier makes a uugh sound, shuddering slightly. He feels safe by a Witcher's side but a tiny spider in a room would get him to scream in disgust. A man of contradictions, Geralt's bard. It was another reason why he disliked kikimoras and never insisted on accompanying Geralt when he had to fight those fuckers.
Even though he expected the Witcher to doge him easily, Jaskier still yelps at the unexpected grab of his wrist, almost falling on his ass before he quickly moves his right leg forward and regains his balance. All things considered, it could have been much worse, he can tell Geralt is coddling him. Bless the man's heart for his patience.
"I'm probably going to break my hand no matter what part of you I punch because you're made of carved marble." Geralt said no flirting but this isn't it! This is just...appreciation. Jaskier doesn't comment on how the only part of Geralt he will happily slap is his ass. See? No Flirting. He's holding himself in check. "Elbows, ok. I can do elbows, seems easy enough, effective."
It shows how much Jaskier trusts Geralt that he still comes over without hesitation when the man calls him, just like he did the first day they meet. It was the first and only time Geralt really hit him, and it had been because Jaskier pissed him off calling him the butcher of Blaviken, so he wasn't even mad about it. "Do I have to punch you then...?"
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When Jaskier informed him their title was partner, he considered it, and decided to accept. It could easily be construed as partner in a variety of ways, so it suited his preferences. Everyone knew that the two of them traveled together. If it became anything more in a public place than travel partners, it put Jaskier at risk. Geralt had enemies, known or not. There were a lot of people who would want to fuck with a witcher, and his beloved bard was an obvious and easy target. Unacceptable. The only thing worse than Jaskier dying would be to die because of Geralt.
They're both holding themselves in check. Geralt with his violence and Jaskier with his flirting. "I am made of muscle. From training. You might get a few too if you pay attention." He doesn't say it because he finds muscles attractive, but being stronger in general is good for people. Better health, better endurance. If the bard has to run a lot he should run as much as he can to prepare. Geralt likes his lovers soft in body, delicate compared to him.
Geralt hates that title and the one thing he cannot argue in any way about is that Jaskier got the world to trade in Butcher for White Wolf. And it means something to him, to have that ordeal wiped away, if not entirely in his mind. She haunts him less, these days. He takes Jaskier's hand. "Not yet. Look." He curls Jaskier's fingers. "Always have your thumb on the outside. You'll break it if you don't. Get in that stance I showed you."
He takes a step back into the stance himself. "A good punch requires the entire body. If you are moving only with your hand and arm, you will hurt yourself." Geralt leans his knees forward, tilts his hips, moves in slow motion so Jaskier can way the way his back arches and the full movement goes to his shoulder and then to his fist, striking into the air. "Immediately retract the hand to protect your face." Geralt jabs a few punches, each one faster than the last so Jaskier can see the progress from slow to full punch.
"You are quick, Jaskier. It helps. One heavy punch can be damaging, but several well placed fast punches can take down ago n opponent twice your weight." Geralt relaxes his hand and points to his side. "Don't go for the gut, you go for the ribcage. If one of those breaks it makes it harder to move and breathe. They're more fragile than they should be." On other people. Not on him. "Not the chest or the shoulders, they're strong and well protected by muscle, bones, and flesh. Throat, nose, eyes, ribs, toes, back of the knee, groin." This is his area. Jaskeir can wax on about stories and tell a good tale, but Geralt can talk about fighting all day.
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The bard has to remind himself to stay focused on the training instead of how nice the pants cling to Geralt's thighs when he moves to teach him the right way to position his feet. He resents the muscle comment, obvious in the way his eyebrows knit together for a second and his face falls, but he doesn't comment on it. Geralt made it crystal clear in the past that he enjoys Jaskier's body, he knows that, but every now and then he can't help but wonder if it's enough. If he measures up to others.
His hand stays relaxed as Geralt moves his fingers into the right position so he's not at risk of breaking his own thumb once the fist connects against something solid ad then reposition his whole body.
After Geralt punches the air, showing his movements a few times. Jaskier tries to mimic the position and angle, keeping his shoulder relaxed and trying to figure out how is he supposed to hit someone with his whole body without falling on his face right after the fact.
"A punch to the ribcage never did much to stop you." He gets the idea that ribcage are a weak point but credit where credit is due. Geralt is something special, probably even among Witchers, and Jaskier gives him a small smile. He is a good teacher, direct and clear, and Jaskier finds himself speaking before he can catch himself.
"You're a natural at this. I mean, not just fighting but showing how it's done. You could...you could teach others, in the future." Witchers don't retire, they get slow and killed, that's what Geralt said. Bullshit to it, is what Jaskier thinks. Witchers deserve a chance to grow old, to rest like everyone else. Let the next generation pick up on the monster hunting and unfinished battles to make the world a better place.
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He misses the eyebrows, more focused on Jaskier's form and hand at the moment. It wouldn't occur to him to desire Jaskier to look any other way than he does. He is very attractive. He thinks of muscles purely in the ways of how it would be better for Jaskier's fighting, not in terms of sexual appeal. His actions have made it clear that he desires the bard and never seems to stop being hungry for him. Not even now, when he's keeping a close leash on his interest in favor of doing this instead.
Geralt is amused. "I'm teaching you how to fight other humans, not witchers." If Jaskier had to fight a witcher, there would be no hope for him unless Geralt was within a foot of him. His kind was lethal in every possible way and also nearly dead. Some day he might end up being the last left, and inevitably they would go extinct. "If the person is a warrior, there's no use in punching them in the torso. But if it were a nobleman or someone soft, it would be easy." Geralt generally refuses to kill humans, the butcher title too close in his mind, and he avoids fights when he can. But breaking a few bones or tossing them around is perfectly within reason if he needs to.
"I had a good teacher, but I am not teaching you the same way. Otherwise you would have a black eye and a nose bleed by now." At the very least. Geralt appreciates the brutality of his training. No one could live fighting monsters their whole lives if someone treated them gently in training. He is somber when Jaskier brings up teaching others, going where Jaskier is leading with that thought, and he shakes his head. "No, I couldn't." It is a firm statement, no wiggle room. Witchers don't retire. They fight until they die.
"I am going to show you how to get out of a physical hold, and you will be tempted to make it sexual." Geralt gives him a warning look. "Don't do that, or I won't fuck you at all today." He is just stubborn enough he could make it happen, out of sheer spite for being disobeyed. The threat given, Geralt reaches over, fast as a snake, and pulls the bard into his arms, spinning him so his back is to Geralt's front. He puts his arms around his waist and tugs him close, clasping his hands firmly together at Jaskier's stomach. He can smell him so clearly. Fuck. "If it's just the arms like this, you lean forward, aim your elbow up, and back strike my chin with it. Pivot and do the same with the other, it should startle the person into letting you go."
Right, bending forward's a great idea. He stays focused. "Once they do, kick sharply at the back of their knees. It'll force them down and give you time to run. Understand?"
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There's a new pained look on the bard's face that is purely for Geralt's sake at the mention of black eyes and bleeding noses. He has a very vague knowledge of how Witchers are trained, knows the logic behind it, but it only makes him angry at how much Geralt had to suffer. It doesn't sit well with him, even if the other man has long accepted the reasons. It's not fair, what choice did Geralt have as a kid? It was taken from him.
No, I couldn't, and that pretty much settles the issue. Geralt manages to kill even discussions before they actually start. He just expects Jaskier to accept his words as fact and shut up. It's frustrating, it makes the brunette want to scream at his face, to shake him by the shoulders, to do something. But you can't change decades of belief with kind words.
Jaskier says nothing.
He would usually snort at Geralt pointing out his flirting habits or get annoyed at the Witcher making it sound like he's doing it him a favor when they have sex. But after the turn the last conversation has taken, not even Jaskier is in the mood for anything. He nods after seeing that warning look, avoiding looking at Geralt's eyes. Wrong move, because even if he were looking at Geralt it would have been hard to get away from his hold. His momentary distraction and the sudden hold he finds himself in makes Jaskier yelp in surprise despite the warning.
Oh hell, but this position is distracting. Not the usual kind of foreplay they do, too many clothes in the way, too brutish movements...yet close enough that it gets Jaskier to take in a shuddering breath. His left hand moves back to hold onto Geralt's thigh, out of instinct more than anything else, until the instructions sink in. He is not flirting, he is not putting the moves on Geralt, he really is not. The Witcher isn't helping.
"I...understand." He tries to do as ordered, wiggling his body and leaning in first, which has the effect of pressing his ass back against Geralt. Is that really how fights are supposed to be? He doesn't remember Geralt grinding against any opponents, he has to pay more attention the next time.
But Jaskier tries, twisting his arm up and aiming for Geralt's head with his elbow. It's harder than it has any right to be, Geralt's arms, even if he's not holding him particularly viciously, are strong as steel. Jaskier's stage name comes after a flower, how that doesn't clue people in the understanding that he's not suited for fights it's baffling to him.
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Geralt knows that Jaskier has a soft heart and therefore wouldn't like the acknowledgment that what he went through as a child was a lot of pain. He will never tell the bard the extent of their training because it would make him sick to hear. Geralt doesn't loo upon it as something to scorn or be disgusted by, the violence and brutality of becoming a witcher, because it is who he is now and it's kept him alive. He tries not to chase shadows. But he knows it is difficult to think about, for a partner. Geralt's reaction to Jaskier being in pain was frantic, he does understand.
He also knows Jaskier isn't happy about his rejection of any implications of retirement, but he feels it is better to refuse it outright than pretend he'll listen for the peace and reject it later. He already warned him.
This position is distracting and he wants to nuzzle Jaskier's neck, sniff his hair, he should have fucked him before they started this so the impulse was lessened, but he wouldn't have as capable of moving. Geralt snarls quietly at the hand on his thigh and then the wiggle, but then Jaskier does a fair job at following his instructions. Geralt doesn't move his head away, although he could, allowing the light blow to happen so Jaskier can feel what it's like to hit something. The elbow is a good weapon, it is blunt, and he smiles faintly.
"Good." The compliment is sincere; it's not as if they are shooting for the moon here. A decent amount of effort is appreciated. His jaw is very hard so it doesn't hurt, but he is pleased. "That is if your hands are not pinned. If they are pinned." Geralt moves quickly again, manoeuvering Jaskier's arms back in front of him in a very light pin. "You twist your hip to either side and then use that angle to hit at their groin several times. As many times as it takes."
He releases Jaskier, not wanting to actually be hit there. "The point is you can't simply push or use strength to get out of these grips, the person will be in a better position for it, it's using the grip against them, shifting other parts of your body and your weight to surprise them." Geralt takes a step out of Jaskier's physical presence because if not he's going to start smelling him. "Surprise and speed are good tools to get to run. But ...." He frowns, crossing arms against his chest. "If they put a knife to your throat do not struggle. You're not fast enough right now to get out of that hold and it's too dangerous. Give them what they want or wait until you're in a different position easier to defend." The last thing he wants is Jaskier getting his throat slit thinking he can get out of that.
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"Lucky me, indeed." They're truly super focused. Geralt can ignore the fact that Jaskier's heartbeat picks up at the man's sweet affirmation that he's safe despite the aggressive neutrality of their training. He can also ignore the way the blue eyes soften a little and the way the corner of Jaskier's lips curl up.
The day Geralt sing to him is the day Jaskier dies, chest bursting with joy. He's a man of simple needs and wants. The day Geralt shares any more details of his training, something unlikely to happen, is also the day something in Jaskier dies as well. It's not just that he loves Geralt, he also loves the freedom of choice and children, and his heart would bleed for the innocence lost.
The snarl makes the bard shudder, it's so close to his ear and so similar to the sounds Geralt makes when he's getting worked up in bed. He answers with a small whimper before he realizes what he's doing. Then everything else happens too fast. Jaskier honest to God expected Geralt to dodge the blow and he is both alarmed and impressed when he feels his elbow connect with something solid. Despite Geralt compliment, alarm wins over.
"Don't let me hit you!" He hisses, voice anxious. "I know I don't kick hard but it's not right, I shouldn't hit you. You can dodge."
The demand is probably against the very purpose of the training, it consists of getting Jaskier skilled enough to defend himself, but it feels wrong to hit his lover. He's never done it before in any situation that wasn't sexual and agreed upon, like spanking, and now that it happened Jaskier finds it revolting. It might have been nothing to Geralt but it doesn't sit well with him and he's still fretting by the time Geralt moves on with the lessons and moves his hands.
"Effective, also..ouch. I really don't want to be on the receiving end of that technique." It's obvious enough that Geralt doesn't either, which is understantable. Witcher or not, some parts are always delicate. Jaskier wasn't going to hit him again, though, much less in the dick. He's as much attached to it as Geralt, they're very close friends. "So, basically...I need to squirm like a fish and then aim for the delicate areas. I think I can do that. And I would like to say I don't know how a knife to my throat feels like but..."
He's had an eventful life and Geralt hasn't always been by his side. Thieves and other crooks see a bard alone on the road and realize he's an easy target. It had always been humiliating and Jaskier would very much want to avoid a repeat on those sorts of situations. "What do I do if what attacks me isn't human? Do you remember the harpy from southeast of Lornruk? It swooped down on us, talons trying to grab our shoulders."
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"I can teach you to punch the air all day but it isn't as helpful as hitting the target. I have a very strong jaw." To say the least. Other people have attempted to punch him in the face before and hurt their hand more than him. Geralt is a block of muscle. He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We may need to find someone for you to spar with if you can't fight me." It isn't unheard of, and they help out in villages enough that he is positive someone there would be a willing target for something so simple. It's put in the back of his mind. He can only train Jaskier so far if they can't be physical at each other.
"You'd be surprised how much it applies to other types of fighting. Someone puts you in a choke hold, you lean your head toward where they're squeezing, taking that space before they want you to and squirm out. If someone punches you, you move your head with it to lessen the impact. It's why fighting can feel like a dance, when you're doing it with someone who matches you." It seems like a strange comparison, but for Geralt it truly is. A fight is violent and bloody, but going up against someone as skilled or nearly as skilled as him is like the two of them comparing long-studied moves. Renfri was so in perfect synch with him as a combatant that if things had gone differently ... no, no sense in going down that road.
Geralt sighs and looms over Jaskier, golden eyes inscrutable. "I suppose I can tell you more about our enemies when we go hunting." It hasn't occurred to him, that's that funny thing. Jaskier asks him for details and he keeps quiet, because he doesn't like being distracted, but now he sees the value in it. He knew what to do when a harpy attacked them and so threw Jaskier down, but would it not help if he told him first? "Harpies can only strike in that way once at a time, if they miss you, they're vulnerable before their wings lift them again." Geralt took advantage immediately upon forcing Jaskier down, dodging and then sliding the harpy as it rose. That was an easy kill, once he was patient and let its arrogance be its undoing.
"I wish you didn't want to keep coming on hunts with me." Geralt steps closer, breaking his own rule to cup Jaskier's face in his rough palm. He caresses the delicate cheekbone. He always worried about the bard before, yes, and came to his rescue time and time again, but it changed. Geralt is infatuated with him and fears for him. It's thrown him into a loop. "But you want to, and that means danger, and that means you have to take this seriously, Jaskier." He leans forward, pressing their foreheads together, breathing him in. It's a very tender gesture, intimate without being sexual in the least. "It is important to me."
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"Then I can hit a tree or one of our bedrolls, or a rock...actually, no, not rocks. I need all my fingers intact for playing the lute." Why do they even have to hit real people at all? Can they get a training dummy of some sort? Maybe just a pile of straws could do the trick. Those should be cheap enough. "Actually, if you find me Valdo Marx, our problem would be solved."
It's unlikley that the bastard of a man would lie still and wait to be punched but a bard can dream. All Jaskier needs is the proper motivation and apparently, hatting the guts of the person he's about to fight. The dance-fighting comparison feels a bit far fetched but it carries the message well. he's seen Geralt fight many times and it has never been short of fascinating, even if the violence has turned his stomach. The Witcher is graceful during a fight when he isn't pissed off and brutal but either way, it's a sight to behold.
"I'd like that." Knowing more about the monsters would help his training and it would enrich his songs, plus he will stop complaining about Geralt being stingy with the details. His mind is already memorizing the information and thinking if it can be useful for a ballad, if there's a way to add some small details to his songs. If he needs to learn how to avoid being killed by a harpy, wouldn't the common folk like knowing the same thing? It only makes sense to share the knowledge.
"You can't let me behind." It wants to be an affirmation but it comes out more like a plea. Jaskier hates himself a bit for it. He leans his cheek against Geralt's palm and then closes his eyes, feeling Geralt's forehead pressed against his own. His fingers itch to reach out and grab the front of the man's shirt but he doesn't want to overstep and ruin the perfect moment. Those are far too few between them. Instead, he presses his forehead back against him. "I'll try again. I'll do my best, promise."
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It isn't that he wants to make the bard into a fighter, it's the opposite. He wants him just capable enough that he doesn't need to fight. That seems like a good goal to shoot for. Geralt thinks Jaskier will do fine once he gets accustomed to it. The bard is graceful when he wants to be and he is fast and long-limbed. "You will be glad for it, once you see the difference. I know it." Geralt truly does think once Jaskier learns a few things, he will feel more confident and less like he's always waiting to be threatened or have to run. There is power in not living in the same type of uncertain fear, small as the change might be.
Geralt only hmms in response to that, acknowledging that he will share thoughts on monsters more than. It will never be poetical the way the bard can be, more flat out facts, but he sees no harm in sharing it. "No asking about the potions," he says, making a small boundary. He doubts Jaskier wants to start doing alchemy, but he has to be careful. Some witcher potions are secret and they are not to be shared. Yennefer is as protective of her own spells and potions; the inhuman guard what secrets they have. But he can share monster information.
"Having you wait in a safe place is not leaving you behind," Geralt disagrees with a frown. He understands how it feels otherwise, but for him it is simply common sense. He comes back, they get coin, Jaskier has a story without the risk, it really is the best option. Except the bard is stubborn. This is a precious moment in ways, when they're not bickering or seducing, when Geralt is being gentle without it being the aftermath of sex. He is touching Jaskier for no other reason than he cares for him, their affection purely intimate as he runs his fingers through Jaskier's dark hair.
These are the moments he probably will remember best, when Jaskier is dead and he has to carry on. Their sex is fantastic and appreciated in their current time together, but in the future, it's the sweet times he'll remember. So he indulges, nuzzling Jaskier's nose with his own. Not kissing him or making it anything other than closeness. "Someday you will use these skills and I will get to say I told you so." Geralt smiles, eyes mostly closed.
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"Sticks are a great idea. Who knows, I might even learn for real, as you said." Geralt has so much faith in him that it's hard not to believe, he doesn't want to see the other disappointed. Jaskier is rarely ashamed of anything, far too attuned of his own flaws and purposely ignoring them but Geralt sees them and instead of mocking him for them he tries to fix them. Fix him. Dare him to be stronger.
There's always something so odd about being awake so early when the world feels blurry around the edge, less cruel, and it's as if only two of them exist. The sun has fully risen, casting shadows under them and rays of light catch on Gerlt's white hair. Jaskier wants to run his hand through it, instead, he makes a promise.
"I never mention those in my songs, or the spells. I never will." The world needs to recognize Geralt's good deeds but letting possible enemies know about the potions that enhance his body or the spells that can catch an opponent off guard would put the witcher in danger. Is the same reaosn why he never mentions Kaer Morhen. Jaskier would never forgive himself. Geralt might rarely need saving but he wants to keep the man safe from further cruelty.
"It's not but I'm always afraid that you won't come back." When they first met, it was because he thought Geralt disliked him and was only waiting for a chance to get rid of him. Nowadays, Jaskier fears to lose him to a monster, human or mythological, and just wants to be there, by his side. Observing, learning, guarding.
This time the bard's fingers do find Geralt's shirt, curl around the fabric. He's not pushing the man closer or trying to initiate anything, he just wants to touch for the pleasure of it. Because Geralt allows it. Because it feels right and good. A smiling, quiet Geralt is a precious thing and how Jaskier likes to remember him best. It makes him feel so cherished when the smile is directed at him. He leans in to press a soft kiss to Geralt's mouth. Just a press of lips, nothing trying to become more but a testimony of his affection.
"Should we get back to work?" He doesn't want to but it's important for Geralt, so they must.
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He nods his head to indicate he heard and understood what Jaskier was promising. He doubted that the bard would, but it still needed to be said for his own awareness. Geralt does sometimes make potions when Jaskier is around, and he doesn't make it very secretive, mostly because he assumes the bard has no interest in alchemy. That in itself is more open than he really should be with their secrets, but he's had his guard down around Jaskier for a long time now.
Geralt doesn't point out that if he dies, Jaskier will absolutely die, as he's the only thing keeping the bard alive most of the time. He would rather Jaskier stay out of it and grieve than have two graves instead of one. But that goes without saying and would be rejected. He hmms instead and lives in the moment, returning the kiss just as softly and not deepening it. He is clearly pleased when Jaskier indicates they can go back to training though, rewarding him with another kiss.
While the actual fighting can only be to a minimum, training starts out now with just getting Jaskier used to standing the right way, using the muscles in his legs, arms, and torso the right way. It isn't something that happens overnight and it is a work out even without needing to hack at someone with a stick. The small ways his muscles will be developing is slow but consistent. Geralt puts him through the paces but stops before iet moves from a healthy ache to anything else. It can't be done in one morning, so he lets Jaskier get a nice sweat and then tells him to pause.
Geralt has them go back to camp so he can give Jaskier some food and water, he'll need it after such an early morning. And he knows his bard gets cranky. "Stretch your limbs. There is a spring nearby you can wash off in." He knows how twitchy Jaskier can get about cleanliness too; see, he thought of all possible angles. He thought ahead with this. Roach is up now and he feeds her oats as well. While Geralt did much of the training with Jaskier, he's obviously built for all of this so he didn't break a sweat or even tense up his muscles, as comfortable now as he was earlier on.
But he's in a good mood. Jaskier did well. It's a decent weather day.
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Geralt has two more things working on his favor, one is that Jaskier is vain and the other that he likes to please his partners. If him being more fit is going to hit two birds with one stone, then he's more likely to try and train more often. Not to the extent any real warrior does, he's soft and he likes it that way, but well enough to stay in shape. Stealth would be fun to learn and Jaskier would be really into it. A nonviolent approach to situations that might allow him to leave or approach someone unnoticed? Yes, please. He only has to realize that asking Geralt about that is an option. Besides, Geralt really is a skilled teacher. Turns out the way to get him talking is asking about a subject he is passionate about.
The witcher doesn't need to point out he's the main reason why Jaskier made it so far in life, he's aware that he would have died much sooner without his companion by his side. He knows he's very lucky and tries to count his blessings every day. Geralt's last kiss before they get back to business gets added to the list.
The training isn't excessive but it isn't something Jaskier does every day, or ever, and his body is tense while he tries to mimic the postures or movements Geralt tries to teach him. It leaves him tired but there's a small satisfaction to the way his body aches and the look he gets from Geralt. He figured that the witcher must be tired too, if not because of the exercise then from having to handle Jaskier, and the bard didn't expect Geralt to provide for him. Jaskier pauses for a moment, giving him a thankful smile and a 'Oh you, fox' look at the offered food and water. Gods, but he's thirsty. His clothes have survived the ordeal with the expected staining but it's not as bad as Jaskier feared. He's pulling at his shirt by the time they get back to camp, feeling it stick unpleasantly to his skin because of the thin layer of sweat.
"Thank Melitele's bursting tits. I think I'm more dirt than an actual human being."
His nose scrunches up. It is not that he smells bad as much as that he feels smelly. It's nothing terrible, nowhere near how many other people gets after a fight or spending days riding a horse but Jaskier is used to peppering his skin with earthy scents and flowery bath salt. Now he just smells...well, manly would be a good word for it, he figures. It doesn't even cross his mind what Geralt might think of it, he's the one with the unfortunate enhanced sense of smell.
He takes off his doublet, dropping it next to his bedroll to worry about it later. His head turns toward the direction of the water, then back at Geralt. Jaskier doesn't say anything but raises an inviting eyebrow at the white-haired man and smirks before heading towards the spring, humming a song under his breath.
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Geralt isn't tired because after the initial push back, Jaskier gave in and listened. He wasn't the best student, but he took it seriously enough that the witcher was satisfied. When they get to stick training it will be more difficult of a work out, but if he starts building up Jaskier's leg and arm muscles now, it will be easier for him too. He is pleased that Jaskier listened. He thought it would be more frustrating.
He snorts in response to that. "You are going to get dirtier," Geralt warns. He didn't exactly put him into the dirt, for example, which is more direct type of training. Jaskier's smell is not bad to him at all. He has come to enjoy the smells he associates with his bard, and the perfumes and bath salts are only a part of them. He knows what his true scent is, underneath all of it, and the sweat reminds him a little more of when they have sex, honestly. It's an appealing one for him in general. But no amount of spring washing will change it.
His eyes follow Jaskier as he walks to wash off, following less than a second later. As if he can resist such an invitation. Geralt decides to be a little playful, moving so fast Jaskier probably doesn't hear him in time to do anything. He sweeps him right off his feet and into his arms, holding him bridal style for now and as if Jaskier weighs as much as a flower. He weighs more, yes, but not all that much. He looks completely innocent as he keeps Jaskier close to his chest, smiling at him with glowing gold eyes. His mischief, which is a strange look in his gaze Jaskier is probably not used to, shows when he wades partly into the water.
"What will you give me if I don't fling you into the water clothed?" Is that a tease? It absolutely is. His smirk is present, a curve at his lips, and it would be so very easy for him to toss Jaskier. Look at how easy it is to carry him while walking. If he planned on throwing Jaskier in, he would have already, but he will at least pretend the threat is real. This is a rare mood for the witcher, but he is in content and wants to hear Jaskier squawk in disapproval.
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Jaskier has a large number of flaws but he makes an effort to do better when it's something that really matters to Geralt, something he knows is going to help them both in the long run. He will never be more than a mediocre fighter but if eases Geralt's worries, that is more than enough. Once they get to the point of using weapons and training with the dagger, he's not going to like it much, probably end cutting himself, but that's a worry for future Jaskier. Present Jaskier wants a cold, long bath. He can almost feel the refreshing water against his overheated skin and...
...and the world is moving under his feet. His surprised squeak resonates around the forest when Geralt picks him. Jaskier curses low and long his witcher abilities as he tries to hold onto the man's neck for balance. "I'm getting you a cat bell!"
He flails a little on the man's arms and only calms down the moment he sees the mischief on those golden eyes and realizes that Geralt's isn't going to immediately throw him to the water. Probalby. "Do I even weight anything to you?"
It makes him smile that Geralt is carrying him like a bride despite their similar heights, instead of throwing him over the shoulder like a potato sack. He's dealing with a festy Witcher, it seems, and Jaskier is squealing again when Geralt threatens him with a sudden bath.
"Don't you dare!" The effect of the complaint is lessened by the pout on the bard's lips. He switches it to a lazy smile the moment he catches on the game and then nuzzles Geralt under the jawline, kissing and licking the skin. "Hmm....I can offer kisses. Or I can offer you a song about training, how does that sound?" He doesn't wait for an answer, humming and then singing loud and clear;
"My focus was on the job
Dodge a punch, avoid the stick
I'm still learning but all I hear is mock
But now my Witcher is going to cheer me up with his dic..."
Geralt might want to find a way to interrupt him quickly.
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He chuckles when Jaskier threatens him with a cat bell. "You'd still have to be faster." Geralt has a steady grip on him but likes when Jaskier holds onto his neck. His eyebrow arches at the question about his weight. "I fight monsters many times your size, Jaskier." He might not be able to toss them as easily as he does his bard, but he still has an impressive amount of strength.
Geralt keeps on smirking at the squeal, his heart warm and pleased by it, and he makes a rumbly content noise in his throat when Jaskier nuzzles his throat. His soft lips feel perfect against Geralt's skin and he is more than happy to keep that going. It is very persuasive. If Jaskier went down that path it might have turned out differently for him, but he chose to sing, and to sing before allowing Geralt the ability to stop him first.
He could stop him with his mouth but Geralt can be unpredictable, and he rolls his eyes, showing Jaskier exactly what he thinks about that by tossing the bard into the spring. Not so close as to hurt him if he lands too shallow, and not so far as to end up drowning him, but he feels like it's an acceptable complaint against writing poems about his dick. He has warned him about that! He watches Jaskier and calmly starts taking off his own clothes, stripping his shirt off and tossing it down, the sunlight glinting off his silver hair and broad shoulders.
He is absolutely taking his time, dropping his boots, undoing his tight pants, all the while trying not to grin and failing at it. And this isn't his small smiles or a smirk. Geralt is truly grinning, smug and pleased with himself, and he won't even care if he's going to have to kiss some pouts better. He rarely gets to play a joke on Jaskier.
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The sound Geralt makes when he sucks a small mark on the sweet spot of his neck is an addictive one. It's not every day that Geralt is this playful and Jaskier had all the intention to keep kissing him after the brief song. Too bad the witcher has no patience for art. The water smothers the scream of alarm when Geralt drops him and he sinks into the spring like a rock. He reappears only a few seconds later, splashing and cursing in alarm until he realizes that his feet can touch the ground if he only stands properly.
"You, wretched man!" Everyone's a musical critic nowadays. It was a good rhyme! He has felt really clever for coming up with it on the spot.
Geralt makes a nice sight undressing like that but, for once, Jaskier pays him no mind, arm reaching into the water to pull off his boots. Wet leather makes staying afloat difficult. He throws them at Geralt, both of them, but none of the boots really come close to hitting him. The water is cold and reaches up to the bard's collarbone, a shudder runs down Jaskier's body but it doesn't feel terrible. He's been really hot after the training and cooling down is good but he had wanted to do it at his own pace, getting into the water slowly. Now he has to deal with soaked clothes that will no doubt also end covered in mud.
The further Geralt keeps on smiling, the more Jaskier looks like a cat with its tail on fire, face flushed and barely contained irritation. He's not really angry, angry, but once he manages to take off his pants he flings them at Geralt's face. His aim is somewhat better than when he tried to throw the boots. Now, if only his shirt didn't keep sticking to his chest...
"You're awful. I don't like you anymore." Says the man that is in no way trying to get out of the water or even swimming away from Geralt.
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He laughs, openly laughs, a very, very rare thing for him when typically the most people get is a chuckle. "You do." Geralt stands fully naked, knowing he cuts an impressive figure no matter what the circumstance, and that Jaskier enjoys looking at him. He then steps into the water, the cold not bothering him as it needs to be far colder to affect him at all. He is a graceful swimmer and goes under for a moment, golden eyes able to see Jaskier clearly from there.
As quick as a fish he swims to Jaskier and stands up, water clinging to silver hair and Geralt runs his fingers through it, pushing it out of his eyes. He's never been as good about taking care of it as Jaskier is, although he manages to get it straight enough for his every day look.
"Here, let me." He is not at all chagrined about it or guilty, helping Jaskier get his sticky shirt off and tossing without looking with it landing exactly on top of the pile he made. "You look good even underwater," he murmurs, his playfulness a little frisky too. And maybe complimentary to help Jaskier forgive him quicker. "I like the way your lips look full when pouting." Teasing as well as flirty. He is telling the truth. Jaskier's bottom lip juts out in a very plush way, making Geralt want to suck on it.
He really does find the bard attractive in a variety of ways, so much that he wonders how it took him so long to take him. He knows logically the reasons why, irritation and complication being top reasons, but he has always been stupid when it comes to desire and he knows Jaskier's body intimately well now. It's a constant temptation. Long limbed but delicate, soft and slender to the touch, a good cock, beautiful eyes.
He is smart enough not to immediately try to kiss and seduce him, instead staring at him heatedly a few steps away. "If it makes you feel better, I'll let you dunk me."
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"You said I couldn't do that in public! Who's going to hear us around here? The forest creatures? The insects? I'm sure any fawn within earshot won't blush upon learning about your fat prick."
It will pain him to admit it out loud right now but Jaskier appreciates the fact that Geralt takes good care of his clothes and shoes, leaving them in a safe place to dry. Stupid man, always finding ways to be charming. The laugh doesn't help, it's such an odd occurrence, like meeting a unicorn. Something that will never happen to Jaskier outside his dreams because his virtue is long, long gone. Seeing Geralt standing in all his naked full glory, the bard is easily reminded the reason why he can't meet unicorns.
"Show off." It's only muttered under his breath but Jaskier has no doubt Geralt will hear him, he could probably hear him while on a different forest. Damn, but the bastard looks good standing close, with water running down his body and the sunlight catching on the droplets in his hair. Jaskier could compose songs for a year after this gorgeous image alone. His eyes darken as he looks at Geralt, pupils blown with interest, lust spiking and fingers itching to touch. Jaskier knows that he probably looks like a drowned hare in comparison. Lifting his arms, he makes it easier for the Witcher to help him out of the soaked shirt and then raises his eyebrows.
"I suspected you were taking a peek. Pervert." And if that isn't the most ironic statement of the century coming from Jaskier, absurd on many levels, they have seen each other naked plenty of times. But if Geralt is in a mischievous mood then Jaskier is playing hard to get.
The younger man still wants to reach out and run his fingers through the wet, long hair, as he does so often. Geralt is being sweet and flirty and he's not prepared for that kind of assault, it's a combo that shouldn't exist, for his sanity. Jaskier can't even be mad when Geralt mentions his pout because he makes it sounds like an honest compliment and he has no doubts that it is one. And then it's his turn to laugh. "Very tempting. But it's not as satisfying if you let me. Where's the challenge?"
Jaskier smiles and leans back, trying to relax his muscles and letting the water keep him afloat, his body growing weightless. They should have come to the spring sooner instead of sweating on their clothes all morning. Staring at Geralt and fighting the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Jaskier lifts his right leg towards him, long and paler under the water. His toes slide up and wiggle playfully over Geralt's hip.
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He really does like the way Jaskier looks at him. It makes him feel desirable, something Geralt in general does not really see himself. He doesn't preen the way a peacock like Jaskier might, but he does stand a little straighter, showing off his muscles and tall build. Jaskier does not look like a drowned hare, although his hair is a bit floppy after a surprise dip. But he also looks good wet and Geralt wants to lick the water beads off of his skin.
"I like looking at you," he confirms unashamedly about being a pervert. If Jaskier needs reassurance that the witcher wants him, there it is. Geralt probably likes his ass most of all, not only because being inside of it is heaven, but it's very pert and nice to pinch. When Jaskier floats near to him, resting on the surface of the water, he takes Jaskier's foot and tugs him gently closer. He stands to the side so he can simply look his fill down at Jaskier, now a feast in front of him.
He trails a finger down Jaskier's body, not applying any weight so he can keep floating, a single stroke from his clavicle down to the tip of his cock and then away. "The first time you seduced me we were wet." In a bath though, not a spring, and it was steamy for more than one reason. Geralt takes advantage to move his hand under Jaskier and run his fingers over his ass cheeks, squeezing gently. "I told myself to fuck you impersonally from behind and not stay in bed with you after, to keep things clear between us, and failed miserably."
Geralt is amused about that, and apparently feeling like sharing. He shares a little more every time he feels inspired to, something that is new to him. That first time he not only fucked Jaskier once face-to-face, kissing him senseless, but twice, and the second time he let Jaskier ride him in a very personal way. And then he stayed in bed with him, allowing Jaskier to snuggle into his side. "I was impressed you got up the courage to seduce me. I didn't think you would dare." But he should have known better. The bard dares many things. It's acknowledgment he knew Jaskier wanted him though, for far longer than that night, but assumed it would keep quiet.
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So much has changed in a few months, and while Jaskier has sometimes called Geralt 'my witcher' when they're alone, this is the first time the possessiveness is returned, voiced loud and clear. It makes his chest tighten in the best of ways. Int eh past he has only gotten a similar sensation each time Geralt growled or glared at the townfolk who got a bit too close to the bard during a performance or once the show was over. They clapped him in the shoulder, invited him to a tankard of ale, or made an attempt at flirting. He doesn't pay attention to the later anymore but hell if it doesn't get the best reactions out of Geralt. Jaskier has grown ever more fond of being bitten and pushed against walls to get his whole self devoured by the White Wolf. He ends walking a bit funny the next day but it's worth the sense of pleased satisfaction they both get, claiming and being claimed. Fucking like rabbits in a bathtub count as seducing just fine for Jaskier too but he's amused at Geralt's wording. He considers himself really lucky that they worked things out because on his part that was a long wish fulfilled. Not just to have sex with Geralt but to actually get him to stay in bed with him afterward, as the man pointed out. What a night, that first one.
He likes Geralt. He likes Geralt for who he is and what he does for people who rarely deserve his kindness and time. And Jaskier would like Geralt even if the man were covered from head to toe in scars, in burn marks, if his hair and eyes were a different color or if he lost all his muscles. Geralt would still be Geralt, the person he fell in love with. It's a stupidly romantic thought, as it happens with artists, one that Jaskier doesn't voice but he tries to show with looks and actions.
"I can't stay mad at you when you say things like these, damn it." The bard's musical voice gets a little strained at the end, emotion choking his throat. It's really not fair how easy Geralt words can undo him when he uses them. That coupled with the way the Witcher reaches for him, caresses and squeezes him like he's something precious and attractive, makes it crystal clear to Jaskier that he will care for no other the same way his heart beats for Geralt.
The brunette straightens in the water, pulling his foot way from Geralt to properly move close to him and press their chest against each other, wrapping an arm around the well-defined waist. His hand reaches out for Geralt's and places it back on his right cheek so the Witcher can keep groping at his ass. There, perfect.
"These days you can fuck me personally from behind or any other way you want. I'd call it an improvement." Lifting his chin, Jaskier nuzzles their noses closer, brushes their lips together. "High risk, high reward. If you are expecting me to regret it you'll get old waiting."
His hands slide down the small of Geralt's back, over the perfect perky gloves, and he gives the man's arse a good squeeze. Jaskier's smile is big infectious and shameless. Kiss me, it says.
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I'm so sorry this has been a long fucking week
Noo, no need to apologize at all. We're all having bad days. Take care bb.
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