He's surprised by the knocking, more so about Geralt's voice, because Jaskier expected him to come barging in. For a moment, he's ashamed fo himself. He should think better of Geralt, the man is always respectful and polite unless his patience has run thin or someone disrespected him first.
"Yes it is! I mean...no, wait, a second please."
Jaskier glances around the room in a frenzy, making sure for the twelfth time that everything is in order. He's even left a small vial of translucent oil by the bedtable, slick enough to be useful for what they might need it - and Geralt is a big man, they do need it- and unscented enough that it won't bother the Witcher's nose.
The bard look down at himself, unfastens another button of the shirt and leans on his side, propped up on a big pillow. The posture accentuates the curve of his hips and thighs, drawing the attention to his legs. Hopefully, Geralt won't find it ridiculous. There's a chance the man is able to smell the nerves on him, hear the fast rhythm of his heart already. Taking one last calming breath, Jaskier smiles and drops his voice an octave before speaking.
He can already smell the candles through the door but it isn't until he finally swings it open to come in that the pleasant scent hits him along with something else, unique to Jaskier's body chemistry. It all drowns out the concoction of unpleasant smells that make up a town like this, even if the inn is relatively clean to the naked eye. Geralt's nose never lies.
Nerves are fresh in the air along with arousal and anticipation. Geralt's eyes immediately settle in on the figure resting on the bed as he shuts and latches the door behind him. His expression is fairly neutral at first as Geralt unfastens his cloak and sets it aside, casually working off his mud-caked boots next. The leather holding his sword in place is unbuckled and gently propped against the wall by the dresser, and all the while his eyes have not left Jaskier, scrutinizing silently.
He notices the embroidered stockings, the thin and frilly smallclothes, the matching yellow shirt and - and is that a collar? It takes him by surprise enough to finally display it clearly in his expression, eyebrows lifting and lips curling into a smile when he finally speaks:
"I'm guessing I can't rip apart this particular present." It's a connection to their private conversation from before. The wrapping here is far too nice looking, something delicate and likely expensive. Geralt crosses the room to the bed and leans a hand against one of the bedposts, eyes clearly roaming along his partner's body before settling on his eyes. "Why are you so anxious?"
Jaskier stays still, trying to look relaxed and casual, but his heart starts to beat faster the longer Geralt goes on without speaking. He's hard to read on the best of days but Jaskier likes to think he's gotten a little better at figuring out his body language with the years. The lack of mockery or demeaning words is a good sign, not like he really believes Geralt would be so cruel. The intense golden eyes staring at him make the bard think of being a deer prey to a wolf, only in a good way. He can't look away either. Satisfaction curls in his belly at Geralt's surprised reaction to the collar and Jaskier gets some of his confidence back, returning the Witcher's smile easily.
"I'd rather you didn't, not until you have enjoyed it fully." Geralt can tear the clothes off of him if that's what he wants, it would be kind of attractive too, but they are indeed expensive and Jaskier feels good in them. Pretty. Maybe not the word a man should be using but 'handsome' doesn't quite fit and he wanted to look pretty for Geralt. He wonders if anybody else ever wanted the same thing.
He sunlight coming through the open window catches on Jaskier's brown hair when he tilts his head up, following Geralt's movements and wishing that the man's hand too roamed over his body. 'I'm not anxious!' burns at the tip of his tongue but it's such an obvious lie that not even Jaskier can make it work. He's sure Geralt can smell it on him when he lies, anyway, so there's that as well.
"I've never dressed like this for anybody. I wasn't sure if it would be to your liking." Jaskier shifts on the bed, kneeling on the mattress directly in front of Geralt, and reaches out for one of his hands. He places the collar there, looking up at him with a coy smile and the start of a blush over his cheekbones. It's not like him to be shy but when it comes to Geralt, he often feels like he's navigating intimacy for the first time. "You said that blue flatters me."
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
no subject
He's surprised by the knocking, more so about Geralt's voice, because Jaskier expected him to come barging in. For a moment, he's ashamed fo himself. He should think better of Geralt, the man is always respectful and polite unless his patience has run thin or someone disrespected him first.
"Yes it is! I mean...no, wait, a second please."
Jaskier glances around the room in a frenzy, making sure for the twelfth time that everything is in order. He's even left a small vial of translucent oil by the bedtable, slick enough to be useful for what they might need it - and Geralt is a big man, they do need it- and unscented enough that it won't bother the Witcher's nose.
The bard look down at himself, unfastens another button of the shirt and leans on his side, propped up on a big pillow. The posture accentuates the curve of his hips and thighs, drawing the attention to his legs. Hopefully, Geralt won't find it ridiculous. There's a chance the man is able to smell the nerves on him, hear the fast rhythm of his heart already. Taking one last calming breath, Jaskier smiles and drops his voice an octave before speaking.
"Come in."
no subject
Nerves are fresh in the air along with arousal and anticipation. Geralt's eyes immediately settle in on the figure resting on the bed as he shuts and latches the door behind him. His expression is fairly neutral at first as Geralt unfastens his cloak and sets it aside, casually working off his mud-caked boots next. The leather holding his sword in place is unbuckled and gently propped against the wall by the dresser, and all the while his eyes have not left Jaskier, scrutinizing silently.
He notices the embroidered stockings, the thin and frilly smallclothes, the matching yellow shirt and - and is that a collar? It takes him by surprise enough to finally display it clearly in his expression, eyebrows lifting and lips curling into a smile when he finally speaks:
"I'm guessing I can't rip apart this particular present." It's a connection to their private conversation from before. The wrapping here is far too nice looking, something delicate and likely expensive. Geralt crosses the room to the bed and leans a hand against one of the bedposts, eyes clearly roaming along his partner's body before settling on his eyes. "Why are you so anxious?"
no subject
"I'd rather you didn't, not until you have enjoyed it fully." Geralt can tear the clothes off of him if that's what he wants, it would be kind of attractive too, but they are indeed expensive and Jaskier feels good in them. Pretty. Maybe not the word a man should be using but 'handsome' doesn't quite fit and he wanted to look pretty for Geralt. He wonders if anybody else ever wanted the same thing.
He sunlight coming through the open window catches on Jaskier's brown hair when he tilts his head up, following Geralt's movements and wishing that the man's hand too roamed over his body. 'I'm not anxious!' burns at the tip of his tongue but it's such an obvious lie that not even Jaskier can make it work. He's sure Geralt can smell it on him when he lies, anyway, so there's that as well.
"I've never dressed like this for anybody. I wasn't sure if it would be to your liking." Jaskier shifts on the bed, kneeling on the mattress directly in front of Geralt, and reaches out for one of his hands. He places the collar there, looking up at him with a coy smile and the start of a blush over his cheekbones. It's not like him to be shy but when it comes to Geralt, he often feels like he's navigating intimacy for the first time. "You said that blue flatters me."